


All Roads Lead to Home

by Seagrass12



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Courage, Friendship, Gwaine takes his alcohol, Its so much more satisfying, Magic, Magic Revealed, Merlin runs an inn, Strength, magical beasts, they already know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8708881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seagrass12/pseuds/Seagrass12
Summary: Arthur's never trusted magic, so no matter how great Gwaine thinks this friend is, he's not going to accept help from a sorcerer so easily. Au in which Merlin doesn't quite end up at Camelot the first time around but still ends up saving Arthur from magical beasts anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

The foliage crunched beneath his feet, loud in the eerily silent forest. He and his companion had forgone all stealth in favour of speed. They just needed to run.

Fast.

A sudden roar from behind him spurred him to move impossibly faster, weapons digging uncomfortably into his hip. He wore only simple clothes made of cloth and leather, giving them none of the protection his usual armour would have, though right now he was grateful for the extra speed.

‘That sounded close.’

‘Really? Well aren’t you the observant one.’

‘Shut up, Gwaine.’

Gwaine shot a forced goading grin over his shoulder at his companion, earning an exasperated huff.

‘Wait,’ Arthur hissed, grabbing the back of Gwaine’s coat and jerking him to a stop.

Gwaine coughed and wheezed for a second, rubbing his neck where the coat had dug into it but dutifully fell silent, glancing around the forest with barely concealed trepidation.

The wind tugged softly at the leaves overhead and their breathing was harsh from exertion, no matter how much they tried to stifle the sound. But there. Heavy footfalls that were getting…

Softer?

‘It’s leaving?’ Gwaine breathed incredulously.

‘Or regrouping,’ Arthur countered darkly.

‘Who cares? It’s gone, thank the gods,’ And with that, Gwaine collapsed onto the ground, arms and legs splayed and looking for the world as though he would never move again.

Arthur looked down at him derisively before sighing and sitting down with his back against a tree next to him, still trying to catch his breath. He looked around the forest, trying to find any kind of distinguishing feature, but coming up short.

Brilliant.

He had already crossed into unfriendly territory when he found the thing, but now, after their frantic dash through the forest he had no idea where he was.

The back of his head thunked against the tree and he groaned. His father was going to kill him. Hell, Morgana was going to kill him. Considering how strange she’d been acting these days, it probably wouldn’t be a pleasant death either.

‘Well, now that we’re not about to be eaten, mind telling your poor drinking buddy just what you’ve gotten him into?’ Gwaine asked. He rolled his head to the side the look at him, heedless of the leaves and hair that fell in his face as he did so.

Arthur met his eye and weighed up his options.

He, Leon and several young knights had been sent to their borders to investigate some rather brutal deaths that seemed to be the work of a magical beast. When the tracks had lead beyond Camelot’s territories, Arthur had volunteered to continue alone to see if he could find its lair, despite Leon’s vehement protests. He’d removed anything and everything that could identify him as Prince of Camelot, and followed the trail. It lead him to a small town, that he soon found had been suffering attacks by the same creature, the same brutal deaths that left victims frozen in grotesque positions with their veins coated with an unusual black substance, spreading under their skin like a spider web.

Arthur had met Gwaine in the local tavern. Gwaine had been wandering from tavern to tavern and had heard stories of similar deaths through the region. After more than a few pints, some heartfelt declarations and a brawl that got them both kicked out of the establishment, he’d agreed to show Arthur the other places it had attacked. Before too long they’d caught up with it, or rather, it had caught up with them.

So here they were.

Arthur sighed.

‘Like I told you, I’ve been tracking this thing for days. As far as we know it’s some kind of magical creature, and it kills indiscriminately. I haven’t found any kind of pattern or link between victims, it doesn’t even eat them –‘

‘Gross,’ Gwaine cut in. Arthur shot him a look but he just grinned back, unrepentant.

‘Anyway, I’m trying to pin it down, find its lair and maybe find a way to kill it if I’m lucky. Gaius, the physician back home, is trying to find out what it is and how to stop it but he was yet to find anything when I left. From experience, I know that getting rid of magical beasts is harder than your average bear,’ He finished darkly.

Gwaine studied him a moment before snorting.

‘Well ain’t you mysterious,’ He commented wryly. ‘So, this home you’ll tell me nothing about has you chasing monsters. You’re not very good at the whole, making-yourself-seem-trustworthy thing, are you?’ He snorted again but nonetheless shifted himself up into a sitting position with a seemingly great amount of effort.

Arthur grimaced apologetically but didn’t elaborate. The fewer people who knew he was from Camelot, the better. They weren’t exactly the most beloved kingdom in Albion at the moment.

‘Well, if its magic, I might be able to help you out with that,’ Gwaine said.

Arthur tensed before he could stop himself, hand creeping towards the sword sheathed at his hip.

‘Are you a sorcerer?’ He couldn’t believe it. Gwaine, ridiculous Gwaine who cracked the worst jokes at the most inappropriate times but that was ridiculously skilled with a sword and agreed to help him on a dangerous quest because he thought it sounded like fun, was a sorcerer?

‘What?’ Gwaine looked amused. ‘Gods no. As someone who chases magic monsters, I assume you’ve heard that learning magic takes time and patience. Not exactly my strongest trait, but I might know someone who can help us.’

‘Us? You still want to help me after all this?’ Arthurs eyebrows shot up incredulously.

‘Sure,’ Gwaine replied easily with a roguish grin, ‘I’ve always liked the look of bad odds.’

He stood up with a flourish then reached a hand out to Arthur. Arthur stared at him blankly, then shook his head with an incredulous grin and took the proffered limb.

Gwaine hauled Arthur to his feet then looked around thoughtfully.

‘Hmm, looks like we’re near the Perilous Lands,’ he looked towards the sky then nodded decisively.

‘Yep, definitely the Perilous Lands. That’s good though!’ he hastily added, seeing Arthurs horrified face. ‘That means we’re pretty close to the friend I mentioned who can probably help us. Maybe. He runs an inn not too far from here.’

‘Am I safe in assuming this inn has a bar of some sort?’ Arthur sighed.

Gwaine acquiesced that point with a mock sage face.

‘Very true my mysterious friend, you are wise beyond your years.’

Gwaine turned back and forth for a minute, getting his bearings, before crowing triumphantly and pointing confidently in some direction.

‘It’s this way, I’m absolutely sure of it.’

Arthur looked at him with a deadpan expression before mentally shrugging. He had no clue where he was, so he might as well follow the madman he’d somehow managed to find himself stuck in an unfamiliar land with.

‘Onward then. I hope this friend of yours is as helpful as you say he is. Picking up the trail after this is going to be a nightmare,’ Arthur shuddered, thinking of Leon who had no doubt already told the King about his hastily-made plan who was likely already planning the lecture of a lifetime for when he got back, if he got back.

No, when. Definitely when.

‘Don’t worry, he’s great. Though I should probably warn you, considering that less than encouraging reaction you had to thinking I was a sorcerer,’ Gwaine looked pointedly at the hand still hovering near the hilt of his sword, which Arthur removed hastily. ‘He gets a whole lot of, let’s say, interesting patrons. Magic’s legal in these lands, though a lot of people still get antsy around it, ‘specially since we’re relatively close to Camelot here. Since he has magic himself, he takes in pretty much all the magic folk that come through. He’s a decent bloke though, and a good friend,’ He finished with a fond grin.

Arthur grimaced. No matter how “decent” the man, he was still going to a bloody sorcerer for help when he was on a quest given to him by the king of Camelot.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. No one knew that he was royalty in Camelot, and all he had to do was go in, get the information he needed, and get out. If the sorcerer figured out who he was and attacked, well, he thought grimly, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to kill a sorcerer.

He took another breath and looked at Gwaine, who was watching him calculatingly.

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

The was a pause, before Gwaine replied.

‘Good. Then let’s go.’


	2. Chapter 2

For an inn supposedly run by a sorcerer, it looked disappointingly normal.

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting, but the cosy looking, two storey establishment with smoke curling lazily from the chimney was not it. The inn was on the outskirts of the small town, (likely due to the patronage) and situated right beside the path that would lead to the Perilous Lands. The path was looked like it was once a road, but had dwindled and been overrun by nature over years of disuse. The forest behind the inn should’ve made it look menacing in the dusk light, like something children were warned about in folk tales, but instead only added to the homely look. The distant whickering of horses indicated there was a stable behind the inn, the sounds adding to the peaceful atmosphere of the place. Arthur wondered if it was magic that made it look so invitingly average, but that thought only made his head spin so he moved on.

‘Well, I had hoped we’d get here sooner but its nearly nightfall, so we may as well take a room and continue on tomorrow morning, eh?’

Arthur jumped, though he’d never admit to it. He’d been so taken in by the inn he’d forgotten for a moment that he wasn’t alone. How anyone could look over Gwaine’s presence was a mystery.

Arthur blamed the magic.

Gwaine just laughed.

‘Come on then twitchy,’ Gwaine chuckled. ‘After today, I think we both deserve a drink.’

With that, Gwaine strolled off towards the wood-panelled door, shaking Arthur out of his embarrassment as he hurried to catch up, all the while reassuring himself that it was perfectly safe.

No one would have any clue who he was.

 

* * *

 

Merlin was having a good day.

It was quite the change really, usually an inn full of magic folk was quite the task to keep.

Fortunately, the group of dwarves that were staying had left that morning, so the wood nymphs wouldn’t get offended by them again and his tables were once again safe from regressing back into trees and attacking said dwarves. It took him hours to figure out how to change them back, as evidently the magic used by nymphs was just as inherent and unpredictable as his. To make matters worse the nymphs had stormed off in a huff and refused to help, though they did apologise for it once they’d calmed down.

As the dwarves came in such a large group, the inn was quite empty now, giving him some free time on his hands. The only people remaining were the three nymphs and a rogue druid, who Merlin was friendly with. This, Merlin discovered, was a rare commodity when one decides to run a business themselves. He’d considered hiring someone to help but decided against it. It was a small place and while he was doing well, the cost of hiring another person might be too much. Besides, anyone who would be comfortable working in a place like this tended not to stay in one place too long.

Merlin sighed wistfully. Yes, magic was legal here, but he still had eyes. He could see how wary the local people were of him, how they were only happy for him to stay if he kept out of their way, and how they all tended to look over their shoulders, expecting the Knights of Camelot to come down on them for harbouring a “sorcerer”.

‘Honestly, I’m a warlock. There’s a difference,’ he muttered petulantly to himself, ignoring the odd look from Calvin, the druid, who had been keeping him company at the bar.

He had always wondered what his life would be like had he actually made it to Camelot, like he’d intended before being… side-tracked. He laughed humourlessly. _I’d probably be dead_ , he thought wryly.

BANG.

‘MERLIN MY FRIEND!’

The sound of his door banging open and the equally loud exclamation brought him out of his reverie. He looked up at the new arrival from the tankard he’d been cleaning absently and grinned so wide it made his cheeks hurt.

‘Gwaine!’

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the bar as Gwaine approached, heedless of the looks he received from the other patrons, varying between Calvin’s amused glance and the wood nymphs at the corner table that looked about ready to bolt.

‘You know I’m always happy to see you Gwaine but could you please refrain from breaking down my door? Again.’ Merlin added pointedly, and Gwaine looked somewhat abashed, his grin turning more apologetic as he took a seat at the bar next to Calvin and exchanged brief greetings with him.

The other patrons calmed down after seeing Gwaine’s obvious friendliness with Merlin, reassured that he was not a hunter or someone else out to get them.

The door clicked shut softly in contrast to Gwaine’s exuberant entrance, and Merlin looked towards the door again to find another man walking towards to bar. He was blonde and broad-shouldered, with a sword strapped to his hip, much like Gwaine’s. But what most caught Merlin’s attention was the barely concealed wariness as he glanced around the room, visibly noting the exits and avoiding the nymphs, which made Merlin sigh internally. Well, at least the newcomer was attempting to be civil, though clearly uncomfortable. He did seem somewhat familiar though, like an itch at the back of Merlin’s mind, just out of reach.

The man took a seat next to Gwaine, who patted him heartily on the back.

‘This is Arthur, my new favourite drinking buddy,’ came the customary introduction.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh really? That’s high praise indeed,’ he grinned. ‘Pleasure to meet you Arthur. As you may have surmised, I’m Merlin. Welcome to my humble abode.’

Arthur looked at him with renewed interest at that, noting every feature, as though assessing a threat. Merlin snorted internally, thinking that was probably an accurate description of what he was doing. Blonde hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders obviously conditioned by years of training with the sword resting easily at his hip and his name was Arthur. Merlin wanted to hit himself, of course Arthur was familiar. The only real question was how on earth could Gwaine have thought it was a good idea to bring the Prince of Camelot here?

Merlin pasted a grin on his face that he knew everyone could see through, though he hoped they would chalk it up to being intimidated by the newcomer.

‘Alright, now introductions are done, my friend and I are in the need for two rooms for tonight if you have ‘em. Also, do you think you could grab some of that incredible ale you gave me last time? You know, the one that has me singing after half a pint? It’s been that kind of day,’ Gwaine effectively broke the tense silence with a grin of anticipation.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

‘I’m hardly booked out at the moment,’ Merlin replied drying, gesturing to the mostly empty dining hall. ‘And you do realise that that ale isn’t intended for human consumption, right?’

A flinch. Barely perceptible, so much so that Merlin would’ve missed it had he not been standing so close to Arthur behind the bar.

An idea formed in his head, and he had to fight back the wicked grin that threatened to emerge. Merlin didn’t doubt that Gwaine had told Arthur that this inn was run by a sorcerer, and Arthur had only looked uncomfortable at the nymphs’ presence, not surprised. _Well_ , he thought to himself, _he really can’t afford to be this jumpy around magic in a place full of magic, now can he?_

He turned back to Gwaine and shrugged, ‘But, if you insist I suppose.’

With that, reached into the golden power raging just beneath his skin. His eyes burned and he held out a hand to catch the bottle of ale that flew from the storage cupboard behind him.

Merlin wouldn’t say he was a lazy person by any means. As a general rule, he would only resort to using his magic to help run things when absolutely needed, but the total shock (entirely visible) of his newest guest was absolutely worth it. A quiet snort to the left told him the Calvin thought so too, and Gwaine’s raucous laughter left little to the imagination.

Merlin unsuccessfully smothered a grin as he cracked open the bottle and poured it into the tankard he’d just been cleaning, making sure to only fill it half way. He wasn’t kidding before, this ale was strong enough to get a troll drunk, and he really didn’t want to kill one of his best friends. Even though said best friend would probably think it the best way to die.

Arthur had flushed a deep red at Gwaine’s laughter, and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

‘Sorry,’ he said to Merlin, determinedly ignoring Gwaine, now happily draining the tankard. ‘I’m just not really used to…’ he fluttered a hand vaguely towards the bottle of ale. ‘This,’ he finished lamely.

Merlin watched his attempted apology with sad eyes, previous humour quickly fading.

‘No,’ he stated with a bittersweet smile. ‘I suppose you’re not.’

 

* * *

 

And what exactly was that supposed to mean?

Arthur frowned at the suddenly-melancholy sorcerer but he’d already turned away and struck up a conversation with the other man at the bar. He’d seemed to be amused by Arthur’s reaction to his magic (eyes glowing – pain – death – destruction – how am I still fine?) but didn’t press at all.

Strange.

But Gwaine did say that magic was still feared here, his inner voice reasoned, he’d be used to that kind of wariness. OK sure, but then why was he sad about it? Uther had always told him that sorcerers revel in the fear they caused others, and every sorcerer he’d met so far seemed to fit the mould. So, what was different about this one?

He didn’t exactly look like one of those other sorcerers either though, Arthur admitted to himself. Pale and scrawny with a mop of unkempt dark hair, he wasn’t screaming evil scheming sorcerer. Even the inn was harmless looking, dying light streaming through the well-cleaned windows and illuminating the multiple marked wooden tables and chairs placed haphazardly around the dining hall. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, obviously the source of the smoke he’d seen earlier, fighting off the evening chill with remarkable effectiveness for its small size. Wooden stairs at the corner of the room Arthur assumed they led to the rooms available for hire spiralled up to the next floor, also looking worn but well cared for. He could find no aspect of this place that seemed threatening at all.

He mentally shook himself out of his musings, suddenly remembering the reason they had come in the first place. If this sorcerer was less aggressive than his kin, all the better for him really. A look to his right said that Gwaine was really in no condition to ask questions – he was already slurring and looked ready to fall of the bar stool (and really, if it wasn’t for humans what was that ale for?) so it seemed that task fell to Arthur.

He cleared his throat to get the sorcerer’s attention and work up his courage. The sorcerer – Merlin, he reminded himself, must not antagonise sorcerers on their grounds – looked over questioningly.

‘Did you want anything to eat? I’d strongly advise against having what Gwaine’s having, I’m actually fairly certain he’s the only person in all of Albion that can handle that drink in any amount. Which reminds me,’ Merlin turned and disappeared into the storage closet again a moment, returning with a few slices of bread and a lump of cheese and handing them to Gwaine. ‘Eat something. You know you’ll regret it if you don’t.’

Gwaine grumbled but did as he was told, and Merlin turned to look at Arthur again, expectantly.

‘No – thank you – I’m good for the moment. I actually have a problem I’m hoping you can help me, well, us with,’ Arthur explained, gesturing to Gwaine.

‘Really.’ Merlin looked highly skeptical, and Arthur supposed he couldn’t blame him.

‘There’s some kind of magical beast that’s been killing people around this region, it’s actually what chased us here. We have no idea what it is or how it hunts, I’ve never even gotten a good look at it. All we know is that it’s big,’ Arthur explained.

‘Well, lots of beasts do that. What makes you think it’s a creature of magic?’ Merlin asked.

‘It’s… victims. How they died. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Their veins turn black, but there’s no other visible marks. No claws, no fangs, no wounds at all that we could see. If there hadn’t been sightings of the thing I would’ve suspected a poison of some kind, but apparently, all the victims said something along the lines of seeing something big out of the corner of their eye, hearing roars and footfalls near their home, or feeling like they were being watched days before they died. Our physician has been looking for possible causes, but so far he hasn’t found anything. So I’m asking, do you have any idea what this thing is?’

Merlin hummed thoughtfully. ‘Well, the black poison makes me think of a manticore, but they’re quite small as far as I can tell. Can’t say I’ve ever met one considering they don’t live in this realm and all, but maybe your creature doesn’t either?’ he mused. ‘It would certainly explain why it couldn’t be identified in your average magic book.’

There was a pause, in which Arthur just stared.

‘Not from this realm,’ Arthur repeated flatly. He was suddenly hit with the overwhelming desire to bang his head on the bar several times. Of. Bloody. Course.

‘Uh huh, it’s a creature of the Spirit World. Pretty nasty from what I’ve heard, but one hasn’t been seen in this world for… centuries, I don’t think,’ Merlin continued thoughtfully. ‘I’d have to look around. Spirit World creatures aren’t exactly well known – for obvious reasons – but I may have some information here for you.’

Merlin’s brilliant grin was so bright it was almost hard to look at.

‘Well,’ Arthur replied, somewhat uncomfortable under the radiance. ‘Anything you could do that might help would be greatly appreciated.’ It was as close to a thank you as he could bear to give the sorcerer.

‘Great! Come see me tomorrow morning and I’ll go over everything with you.’ Merlin’s smile had not dimmed in the slightest. Arthur nodded and went to stand but Merlin stopped him.

‘And here, these are for you.’ He pulled two brass keys out of his pocket and handed them to Arthur, as well as the remaining bread and cheese. ‘You might need these. Upstairs, first two doors on the left. The other key’s for Gwaine, though I think you may have to help him to the room. Especially if he keeps flirting with the wood nymphs.’

Arthurs head snapped around to find that, yes, Gwaine had managed to stumble his way over to the admittedly beautiful (in an unearthly sort of way) creatures at the corner table and was smirking suggestively as he spoke with them. The creatures in question looked less than impressed.

‘They tend to get offended rather easily, so sooner rather than later is best,’ Merlin added helpfully.

Arthur shot him a look that clearly said ‘why are you making me deal with this’ but Merlin just gave a cheeky smile “busied” himself cleaning the bar and chatting to the other man still seated there again.

Arthur sighed but got up to drag Gwaine away anyway. It seemed his advice to visit a friend had turned out well after all, though the idea of otherworldly beasts still had Arthur reeling a little. In any case, Gwaine deserved a favour from him, even if it was saving him from – were there trees growing out of that table?

‘Nyla come on! I just fixed that yesterday!’ Merlin called out irritably, and the nymph – Nyla – had the grace to look abashed, though she still shot an irritated look at Gwaine now rolling on the floor in laughter.

‘Alright handsome, let’s go,’ Arthur said as he heaved Gwaine from the ground and made for the stairs.

After this, Gwaine could considered that favour well and truly repaid.

 

* * *

 

Merlin watched in amusement as a cursing Arthur dragged a still guffawing Gwaine up the stairs and out of sight. He laughed out loud when Gwaine proclaimed loudly that he should be the one carrying the princess to safety, not the other way around, followed but Arthur’s loud, ‘Shut up, Gwaine!’

‘Are you sure about this, Emrys?’ Calvin asked quietly, and Merlin quickly sobered, grin fading.

‘It’s not like I can make his opinion on magic any worse, now can I?’ Merlin replied stubbornly. ‘It could be exactly the push he needs.’

Calvin studied him a moment.

‘You’re planning on going with him, aren’t you?’

‘Obviously. Whatever this is, it’s going to try and kill him. They always do. But now, I don’t have to use the Network to keep him safe, I can do it myself. Plus,’ his tone became excited. ‘He knows what I am – there’s no way Gwaine can’t have told him – but he still asked for my help. If that’s not proof that change is coming, I don’t know what is.’

Calvin still looked doubtful but tilted his head in acquiescence, before finishing his drink and standing. With one last measuring look, he gave a quiet ‘Good night then, Emrys, and good luck,’ and headed for the door.

Merlin absently cleared the room, mind already racing with ideas on what the creature could be, and the books he owned that may hold the answers. He smiled to himself a little.

‘Gwaine really should get free drinks here from now on after this,’ he mused.

He stopped as a thought occurred to him. His smile turned disbelieving, then fond, as he realised the undeniable truth.

‘He definitely planned this.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always got the impression throughout the series that Arthur is really terrible at keeping a secret, and the only way he does it is through a) Merlins help and/or b) people indulging him, plus it’s a lot of fun to write so I went with it. Hope the changes in perspective weren’t too confusing.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~Seagrass12


	3. Chapter 3

Because of the peaceful atmosphere exuded by the inn, Arthur had assumed he’d be woken by something poetic, like the chirping of birds, or sunlight streaming through his window. It seemed the sort of place that would let you relax and wake at your own pace so that you’d come out completely refreshed and ready for the new day.

He was wrong.

Instead, he found himself glaring, bleary-eyed at the ridiculously cheerful innkeeper who’d unceremoniously ripped back the curtains of his room, blasting him with the harsh glare of the morning sun. Merlin had dropped a metal tray of what appeared to be breakfast on the small table provided with a resounding clang that reverberated through his tired skull.

‘Good morning sunshine!’

Arthur groaned pitifully, clamping his pillow firmly over his head. He hated morning people.

His hatred was only reaffirmed when the pillow was ripped from him, the offender still wearing a happy smile. ‘If a hungover Gwaine can’t beat me at this game, you definitely can’t either,’ he chirped.

 _Is that a challenge?_ Arthur cracked open one eyelid to glare balefully at him.

‘Come on, I have some things to show you,’ Merlin coaxed him.

Suddenly, Arthur was wide awake. All the events of the past week rushed back to him in an instant and he shot up out of bed. Merlin stumbled back, startled by his abrupt movement.

‘Wow, yeah, much easier than dealing with Gwaine. Who, by the way, will meet you in the dining hall in five minutes,’ he added helpfully. ‘Hurry along now!’

Arthur growled and grabbed the closest thing to him (being his pillow, unfortunately) and threw it as hard as he could at the smug innkeeper. He’d teach him to be so awake in the morning. Who did he think he was?

The pillow froze mid-air.

All of a sudden, Arthur was viciously reminded that he was now alone, unarmed and entirely vulnerable in a room with a sorcerer. A sorcerer who was laughing at him – not in spite, but genuine humour.

‘You’ll have to do better than that I’m afraid,’ he shot back with a goading grin.

And somehow, impossibly, the sudden tension was dissolved in an instant. Merlin gave one last cheery wave and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Arthur glared defiantly at the door, previous ire back in full force.

_Challenge accepted._

 

* * *

 

When Arthur was fully dressed (and armed), he made his way downstairs to the dining hall. As Merlin had promised, Gwaine was already seated at one of the tables and somehow didn’t look as deathly as he really should have after the night he’d had. In fact, he was chatting animatedly with the innkeeper, apparently completely recovered.

Magic. It had to be.

Merlin and Gwaine both looked up when the bottom stair creaked, effectively announcing his arrival, and beckoned him over.

‘Arthur! What’d I tell you? Merlin here thinks he has a solution to our monster problem,’ Gwaine said proudly, by way of greeting.

‘Really? You figured out what it is?’ Arthur demanded.

Merlin looked rather uncomfortable under the scrutiny but answered nonetheless. ‘Yes, and no. It’s complicated. The creature that chased you is definitely from the Spirit World, but I don’t think it’s the one killing people.’

‘What? That makes no sense. This thing has been seen – well, glimpsed really – every time a murder has happened, and it doesn’t strike me as friendly,’ Arthur argued.

‘Well I’d say it knew you were after it, which wouldn’t make it too happy with you now would it? How would you feel if someone came after you, just for existing?’ Merlin shot back.

There was an awkward silence. Somehow, Arthur didn’t think he was just talking about the monster.

Merlin visibly shook himself and continued. ‘I think that the creature you saw was actually trying to save those people. Here, look.’ He grabbed a large tome sitting on the table that had somehow escaped Arthur’s notice when he’d walked in, opened it to a marked page, and turned it around so Arthur could see. Depicted in the ancient book was a large, bear-like creature with shaggy black fur and vicious looking fangs. It would’ve looked terrifying, had the illustrator not drawn it in a docile, unthreatening position. Arthur tried to read the inscription that went with it but quickly discovered a problem.

‘What language is this?’ he asked, confounded. As a member of the royal family, he’d been given the best education and taught all languages in the region, even ancient ones used in only in a spare few old tomes. He had never seen these strange markings before in his life.

‘It’s the language of the Old Religion. It’s not surprising that you don’t know it, as it’s been largely forgotten. Even the druids and Priestesses struggle with it. Nowadays, you’ll only see it to express instinctive, elemental spells that can’t been articulated any other way, or in really old books like this one,’ Merlin replied.

‘Yes, language, fascinating, can we go back to the monster please?’ Gwaine cut in, impatiently.

‘Right, sorry. This creature isn’t a monster though. It says here that it’s a Guardian, a spirit that can be summoned to the Mortal Realm to eliminate any threats that have slipped through from the Spirit World. There are lots of different Guardians, each specific to different dangers. This one in particular is the natural enemy of the manticore.’ Merlin explained.

‘Manticore? You mentioned that yesterday, what is it?’ Arthur asked, fully immersed in the discussion now that he had some solid information. He was almost willing to overlook the fact that a harmless looking innkeeper could somehow read the language of magic lost even to the highest of magical powers for centuries.

Almost.

Merlin flipped the pages to another dog-eared section and displayed the image again.

‘Now that one looks nasty,’ Gwaine stated.

Arthur had to agree with him. The author had made sure to make this picture seem as threatening as possible. It was a small, four-legged creature that had a frilled neck with harsh looking spikes and a tail like the desert creatures Arthur had heard stories of from some more world-travelled merchants. What was most disturbing though was it’s human-like face, depicted in an ugly snarl. It was terrifying.

Below the drawing of the creature was another of an oddly decorated box, seeming entirely out of place on the page. ‘What’s this then?’ Arthur inquired.

‘That, is a gateway. A portal between this world and the Spirit World, and this is where it gets complicated. Like I said yesterday, the poison of a manticore looks similar, but has a different effect. Normally it’s slow acting and turns the victims’ eyes black, not their veins. Unless…’ Merlin trailed off, a resigned look on his face. Arthur had a feeling he knew where this was going.

‘Unless it’s altered by magic,’ Arthur finished. Merlin hung his head, looking so incredibly sad that Arthur couldn’t bring himself to comment. What was wrong with him? He should be accusing the innkeeper; a man he knows is a sorcerer, who conveniently has all the answers and who willingly goads him every chance he gets.

But he didn’t.

He somehow couldn’t find it in himself to believe that the innkeeper who laughed with and teased someone he knew was wary of magic and armed to boot, just to try and make him more comfortable. A sorcerer that holds the friendship of a man who, despite his flaws, is level headed when he needs to be and a decent judge of character. A man who looked so incredibly disappointed with the actions of his kin, it rivalled the look Uther gave him when he learned Arthur had helped a young druid boy escape the castle. _Such irony_ , he thought.

‘Sorry Merlin,’ Gwaine said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Merlin gave a grateful smile.

‘Thanks, Gwaine. I knew there had to be someone else involved – that’s the only way to open a portal to the spirit realm. In the past though, manticore have been known to trick anyone unlucky enough to find that box and curious enough to look inside into releasing them. They would use their poison to keep the magic-user quiet and force them to do whatever they asked.’ Merlin sighed. ‘This time though, it seems the sorcerer has made the manticore do their bidding. They’ve even altered the effect of the poison, which tells us they’re no one to take lightly. That kind of magic isn’t easy – it takes both power and incredible skill.’

‘So, the victims could be people this sorcerer had a grudge against, or just the unlucky enough to be made a statement for someone else,’ Gwaine theorised.

Arthur winced internally. Considering the creature first appeared in Camelot, he knew it was likely the latter. His father had a lot of enemies after all.

He caught Gwaine giving him a knowing look, and his heart skipped a beat. Did he know?

‘But then what about the Guardian?’ Gwaine asked.

‘Well, clearly someone figured all this out before we did,’ Merlin answered. ‘The Guardian had to be summoned as well, though it doesn’t need a gateway per say. It’ll draw on the summoner’s magic to keep itself here, otherwise it would just slingshot back. That means it has to stay in close proximity to the summoner, and would likely be coming and going. The continuous draining of magic would force the summoner to keep breaking the connection while they recover then re-summon it once they have, or the constant strain would kill them. Although,’ Merlin added thoughtfully. ‘Whoever is trying to stop the manticore must be incredibly determined. Even taking breaks to rest, this would be exhausting. Family of a victim, perhaps?’

‘Whoever they are, they’re helping. They’re probably the reason it’s moved so far from where it started – it’s being pushed away. If we can let them know we’re after the same thing, we can stop wasting time running for our lives from that thing like yesterday,’ Arthur decided.

‘OK then,’ Gwaine agreed. ‘First we should –’

A blood curdling scream interrupted whatever he was about to say.

The three exchanged alarmed glances before jumping to their feet and running upstairs. They burst into the wood nymphs’ shared room, Arthur and Gwaine with swords drawn to find Nyla motionless on the floor, her two sisters kneeling by her side.

Merlin joined them immediately, mumbling something unintelligible as he ran his hands across her face. Arthur scanned the room with a sharp eye looking for the attacker, and saw Gwaine doing the same. A gasp from the floor brought his attention back to the nymph, and his stomach dropped like stone.

Her eyes were open and pitch black.

‘It’s been here,’ he stated, somewhat unnecessarily.

‘How is that possible Merlin? I thought you had this place protected!’ Gwaine demanded.

‘I do! The amount of protective spells I’ve cast on the area makes this the most secure place in all of Albion, but I didn’t do anything against Spirit World creatures! Did you miss the part where it’s been centuries since one was seen?’ Merlin exclaimed, hands now resting on Nyla’s temples. ‘It seems my enchantments did nullify whatever alterations were made to the poison though – its acting like it should. That’s good.’

‘How is that good?’ Arthur demanded, gesturing harshly to the unmoving nymph. ‘She’s dying!’

The sisters wailed louder, clutching desperately at Nyla’s limp hands.

‘And if the other sorcerer’s magic was working here she’d already be dead!’ Merlin threw back. He removed his hands and stood up, glaring defiantly. ‘If we can kill the manticore before it kills her, the poison will lose its potency and she’ll live. We have to find that box.’

‘Or the Guardian,’ Arthur interjected.

‘How long do we have?’ Gwaine asked.

Merlin looked pained.

‘A day. We have a day.’

 

* * *

 

After that proclamation, the inn was a flurry of activity. Merlin had run off to gather supplies whilst Gwaine had opened a map onto one of the dining tables and was marking out the known locations of victims, looking for a pattern.

When Arthur went to give his input, Gwaine took him by the arm and spoke in a hushed voice. ‘It started in Camelot, didn’t it?’

Arthur stiffened, then cursed himself for doing so. So much for that secret.

Gwaine gave a crooked smile. ‘No offence Arthur, but it’s kind of obvious. No one reacts to magic quite like the people of Camelot. And yes,’ he added quickly, when Arthur opened his mouth to respond. ‘I’ve no doubt that Merlin has figured it out as well. I’d say you don’t need to worry about him, but something tells me you already know that,’ he finished meaningfully.

Arthur tried to contradict him – really, he did – but somehow he knew the words wouldn’t be genuine. Finally, he went with, ‘I’m accepting his help, that doesn’t mean I’d trust him with my life.’

‘Right. Course not,’ Gwaine replied. For some reason, he seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face.

Before Arthur could ask though, Merlin came thundering down the stairs, three shoulder bags swinging wildly from his shoulders.

‘OK, that’s everything. Let’s go,’ he urged, throwing them a bag each and heading for the door.

‘What? We don’t even know where we’re going yet!’ Arthur argued.

‘Yes we do!’ Merlin called over his shoulder, before stepping outside the inn.

Arthur turned to Gwaine who looked incredulous, but unsurprised.

‘You heard the man,’ he said, heading for the door. ‘And don’t look so concerned, this sort of thing happens a lot with him.’

Arthur shook his head.

‘Bloody sorcerers,’ he grumbled, but nonetheless, followed after them.

 

* * *

 

After an hour of walking through the forest, Arthur couldn’t take it anymore.

‘Alright _Mer_ lin, where are we going?’ Arthur demanded.

‘We’re following the trail,’ Merlin replied with a look that clearly said, obviously.

Arthur made a show of looking around at the clearly unmarked earth. ‘Oh yes, right. I can see that.’

Merlin gave a world-weary sigh. ‘It’s a Spirit World creature, did you really think it would leave a trail that you can see?’

‘The other one did.’ Arthur contended stubbornly.

‘It’s also seven feet tall and bound by a mortal, not a magic box.’ Merlin quipped.

‘Well that’s very convenient, isn’t it.’

‘You didn’t have to come you know,’ Merlin griped, annoyance creeping into his voice.

‘And yet on your own you’d probably end up killing yourself by tripping over your own two feet and breaking your neck,’ Arthur goaded.

‘You think a lot of yourself, don’t you.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I’m allowed to because I’m not an idiot.’

‘No, you’re an arrogant clotpole.’

‘That’s not a word.’

‘Is too.’

‘ _Ladies_ , please,’ Gwaine interrupted, before things could escalate. ‘Let’s focus on the important things shall we? You can insult each other all you like when we don’t have a deadline.’

Merlin huffed but fell silent. Arthur ducked his head, embarrassed and shamefaced at acting so childish, even if it was fun to rile the sorcerer up.

They continued in silence, until Merlin abruptly stopped, eyes darting across the forest. Arthur glanced around curiously – he could see nothing about this particular thicket of trees that separated them from all the others they’d past. Evidently, Merlin could see something he couldn’t.

‘There.’ Merlin pointed at two trees that bent across each other, forming an ‘X’ with their trunks. It wasn’t all that uncommon to see in a wild forest like this one, and there were no other visible markings to suggest anything special about the arrangement.

He turned to Merlin quizzically, question half formed when suddenly Merlin spoke in that strange language Arthur had only ever associated with pain. The words though, were entirely foreign to him.

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and as Arthur watched, the “trees” and surrounding forest melted away into a dilapidated shack in the middle of a small clearing. Arthurs jaw may have dropped – just a little. He determinedly avoided the laughing smile he knew Gwaine was sending his way.

‘Nice, Merlin!’ Gwaine exclaimed, drawing his sword and cautiously approaching the unstable-looking assembly of wood. Arthur followed his lead, easily falling into the combat-ready mindset drilled into him from birth, face hard. Merlin hung back, watching carefully.

Movement from the shack had him tensing, coiled to spring on the person who had brought so much pain to his people. The door flew open they found themselves being buffeted by a strong, conjured wind.

The sorcerer took his chance to escape, running for the tree line as fast as he could, though hindered by a bulky-looking bag he clutched desperately to his chest. Gwaine stumbled to his knees from the onslaught, planting his sword into the ground for support, but Arthur was more than prepared for this kind of tactic, and managed to carry on after the sorcerer. He found where the wind was least intense and barrelled through, easily catching up and tackling the summoner to the ground. The bag flew from his grasp and fell and few metres away.

The two grappled on the ground, effectively distracting the sorcerer and cutting off the wind. From experience, Arthur had learned that sorcerers preferred to attack from a distance, so coming down on top of them tended to fluster them, preventing the concentration required to cast any more spells.

From the corner of his eye Arthur saw Gwaine get to his feet and sighed in relief. But in that split second of inattention, the sorcerer had drawn a dagger from within his cloak and flipped them around, raising the dagger to Arthur’s neck with a snarl on his face. Distantly, he heard Gwaine’s shout but could do nothing as the blade pressed to his jugular hard enough to draw blood.

‘Arthur Pendragon,’ the man hissed, foul breath washing over Arthur’s face and making him hold down a gag, lest the dagger cut any deeper. ‘Let Uther feel the despair of losing a child – despair he has wrought on so many others!’

Arthur’s hand scrabbled desperately for the sword that he’d dropped in the scuffle, but he knew it was a fruitless effort. He would die here.

The Prince of Camelot glared defiantly at his attacker, refusing to look away from the face of death. The sorcerer raised the dagger high.

‘DIE! ARTHUR P-‘

The sorcerer cut off as he was thrown violently from Arthur, dagger falling out of his grip. The man was flung so hard he hit one of the trees with a crack and slid down, dazed and winded.

Arthur sat up and scrambled to his sword, hefting it and swinging around to face the attacker. Then he stared dumbfounded, sword falling slack with what he saw.

Merlin stood, hand outstretched and the gold fading from his eyes, a determined expression on his face.

Arthur was speechless. He’d wielded such destructive force, _and he hadn’t said a word._

The hard expression dropped from Merlin’s face as quickly as the sorcerer fell to the ground and he rushed over, hands fluttering and eyes darting over his features, looking for injury. Arthur flinched back despite himself and Merlin looked chagrined, hastily putting some distance between them but continuing his inspection.

‘Are you ok? I’m so sorry it took so long–’

‘Merlin.’

‘–But that isn’t really an excuse, I mean, I wasn’t doing nothing but I should’ve been doing  
something–’

‘ _Mer_ lin.’

‘–and I almost wasn’t fast enough but–’

‘MERLIN!’ Arthurs shout finally halted his nervous ramblings. Arthur looked him in the eye and waited until Merlin could meet his.

‘Thank you.’

Merlin looked astonished, until that radiant grin appeared again.

‘I’m OK too, don’t worry about me,’ Gwaine grumbled good-naturedly from where he was currently tying up the semi-conscious sorcerer, making sure to gag him with a some cloth torn from the man’s cloak.

‘You tripped over Gwaine, you’re fine,’ Merlin teased.

‘Tripped over from evil magic wind! There could be some serious side effects!’ Gwaine exclaimed in mock outrage, tying the final knots with a flourish.

Merlin and Arthur gave him unimpressed looks.

‘OK that’s just scary. You two look exactly the same.’ Gwaine shuddered, looking between them.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Arthur whipped around and lifted his sword again, Gwaine copying the movement.

Standing in front of the sorcerer’s forgotten bag was what could only be the Guardian. The illustrator of Merlin’s book had done a remarkable job in capturing its likeness, though the threatening growl coming from it’s throat didn’t match the docile picture the book had tried to portray.

‘Put down your weapons,’ Merlin said calmly, not taking his eyes off the creature.

‘Merlin my friend, you know I trust you, but are you _absolutely_ sure that’s a good idea?’ Gwaine asked nervously.

‘Very much so,’ Merlin replied, still entirely at ease.

Arthur exchanged sceptical looks with Gwaine, but lowered his weapon. As soon as he did so, the growling stopped. The Guardian studied them for a moment before returning its dark gaze to Merlin, who continued looking back without flinching. For a moment, nothing happened, to Arthur, it seemed almost like the two were communicating silently through their odd staring contest.

Finally, the Guardian lowered its great head to the bag and sniffed it, before growling again, raising an enormous paw and bringing it crashing down on the bag. There was a loud _bang_ , a flash of light and the sound of ripping fabric as the bag was torn to pieces by wooden shrapnel exploding outward from within.

The creature looked distinctly pleased with itself. Then, with one final glance at Merlin, vanished without ceremony.

There was silence.

‘Well, I suppose that’s that then,’ Arthur said, sheathing his sword.

If he was honest with himself, he really just wanted to go to bed and sleep a few days. His perception of the world had shifted far too much in the past twenty-four hours for him to deal with right now.

‘And what about him then?’ Gwaine asked, gesturing to the incapacitated sorcerer. ‘I imagine you’ll want to take him back home to prove that the danger’s gone, right Arthur?’

Arthur glanced the now-unconscious man. That was true enough, Uther would want him executed, he was sure.

‘We can take him back and leave him tied up in the stables tonight. There’s no way I’m letting you go anywhere in this state,’ Merlin cut in, and Arthur silently thanked him, shooting a grateful look his way. Merlin just smiled.

‘Let’s head off then. It’s quite a way back to the inn, and you have a long journey tomorrow. Best we get back as soon as we can.’

Arthur closed his eyes wearily before tilting his head back to look at the sky. Back to Camelot, where sorcery of all kinds is punishable by death. Sorcery that had killed dozens these past weeks, and sorcery that had just saved not only him, but potentially dozens more.

Arthur’s head hurt, his very soul felt conflicted. He grimaced, resigning himself to a difficult few days.

Merlin looked over at him and gave an almost apologetic smile, as if he knew exactly what Arthur was thinking.

How did he do that?

Bloody sorcerers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So, lots happening in this chapter, bit of character development happening, which is always fun. I tried to get the transition of Arthur coming to trust Merlin as plausible as I could but it still seems a little rushed. Ah well, chalk it up to destiny or something like that. We will get Merlin’s story at some point in the next couple chapters too, so that should clear some things up. I’m expecting this story to be around 8 chapters long, I didn’t want to go too crazy.
> 
> As always, thanks for all the reviews and kudos! The feedback was very helpful, I hadn’t realised the line breaks didn’t come through the first time but they should be there now, thanks for letting me know. Also, I am Australian, and we’re an odd bunch who like to throw ‘u’s in random places and have some grammatical quirks, so sorry if that’s a bit unusual to you, but bear with me.
> 
> Next chapter probably won’t be until next week due to real life commitments – unless I’m super organised of course. But because of who I am as a person, expect next week.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~Seagrass12


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur shifted restlessly in his sleep.

_Magic doesn’t have to be evil you know._

Sweat beaded at his brow as he tossed and turned, unable to settle.

_I’m sorry, did I insult your precious Camelotian sensibilities?_

He frowned unconsciously at the teasing tone echoing through his mind.

_Maybe someday, when the right people can see the truth, things could be different._

His breath came in short gasps, his lungs refusing to hold the precious air he needed.

_Now_ that _… that would be something worth seeing, don’t you think?_

_Arthur?_

‘Arthur?’

The Prince of Camelot shot up out of bed, as if to put physical difference between himself and his nightmares. No, not nightmares.

Memories.

He up and saw his ever reliable yet so incredibly dull manservant, George, waiting patiently at the foot of his bed. The usually straight-faced servant looked slightly put out.

‘I apologise for the lack of decorum Sire, but I was having trouble rousing you.’

A different room flashed across his mind’s eye, a different person ripping open curtains and teasing him for sleeping so deeply. A pillow flung in absence of a real weapon freezing in the middle of the room, eyes burning like fire and smile brighter than the sun.

‘That’s quite alright George. You may go, I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself,’ Arthur told his manservant, hastily shoving him out the door, despite his protests.

When he was alone again, he sank tiredly into his desk chair, resisting the urge to rest his head on the wooden table. His sleeping troubles were something of a common occurrence these days – he felt as though he hadn’t slept in months.

Arthur snorted. How entirely accurate.

It had been six months since he first set off to kill a magical beast believed to be murdering his people. It was five months and three weeks since he’d met Gwaine, and five months, two weeks and four days since he’d met the innkeeper-who-was-a-sorcerer that had stopped the killer and saved his life.

Even when he had returned to Camelot, perpetrator in tow and being showered in praise by his father and his people, he couldn’t forget the truth. Arthur wasn’t the one who’d saved them.

A sorcerer had.

A sorcerer who had not made things easy for him, the baffling idiot. Their final conversation had been playing in his mind over and over again every day since he’d left the inn – not even his subconscious gave him any respite.

He groaned as he recalled it for the hundredth time that week alone.

 

* * *

 

_The three men had made it back to the inn later than they’d hoped, owing to the dead weight of the summoner being carried between them. When they’d finally arrived, Gwaine had volunteered to tie him up in the stables, evidently still sore at being the only one who didn’t get any real ‘action’ in the scuffle. That left Arthur alone with Merlin, who’d immediately headed upstairs to check on the nymphs, but had returned soon after, note in hand._

_‘They’re gone,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘They said that Nyla was cured of the poison but that_  
_they didn’t want to take any chances, so returned to their woods so she could fully heal. They said to say thank you as well you know, for all the help you gave.’ He gave Arthur a small smile._

_‘They don’t need to thank me. Anyone would’ve helped against something like that,’ Arthur replied quietly from where he sat at the bar._

_Merlin studied him a moment, before huffing and taking the seat next to him._

_‘Magic doesn’t have to be evil you know,’ he blurt out, seemingly unable to help himself._

_Arthur looked up, startled at the sudden declaration, before the pieces clicked in his mind._

_‘So Gwaine was right. You do know I’m from Camelot,’ he accused, and Merlin gave a quiet laugh._

_‘You’re not a sneaky as you think you are,’ he ribbed. ‘That and you looked about to jump out of your skin from me summoning some ale.’ He shook his head, smiling fondly at the memory._

_Arthur settled again and smiled wryly. ‘You make a good point,’ he consented. His small smile faded, expression growing more serious. ‘You saved my life,’ he said, and Merlin looked up, that bittersweet smile back on his face._

_‘Is that really so surprising to you?’_

Yes _, Arthur wanted to reply._ You knew I was from Camelot, so even if you don’t know exactly what that means you should be trying to kill me.

_But he didn’t. From the look on Merlin’s face, he didn’t have to._

_‘Magic can be used for many things,’ Merlin began. ‘I’d say it’s like a very multi-purpose tool, but that’s not quite true. Magic is so much more than that. It’s alive. It listens, it hears what you want and, if you have the skill and power, it acts to make it happen for you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘That being said, I honestly don’t believe there’s such thing as ‘evil’ magic. There are only people, and some of those people are in a lot of pain – so much that they would wish terrible things unto others so that they aren’t alone in their suffering.’_

_‘Because of the King,’ Arthur dared to clarify, watching closely for a reaction. On finding one, he added, ‘You don’t like him, do you.’ It wasn’t a question._

_Merlin smiled wryly. ‘I can’t say he’s my favourite person, no. Uther Pendragon is a selfish man. He uses magic when is suits him yet punishes everyone else for it. His actions have brought pain to his people – the sorcerer today wasn’t killing people because of something they did. He hurt them to get to Uther, because that’s the only way he thought he could.’ Merlin stopped, collecting himself and halting his frenzied rant. ‘I wasn’t there at the time of the purge, but from what I’ve heard, the King was wise to try putting a stop to corruption caused by people using magic. He didn’t stop though. He just kept on killing, and now it’s his obsession. He’ll never stop.’_

_There was a heavy pause as Arthur digested Merlin’s words._

_‘I’m sorry, did I insult your precious Camelotian sensibilities?’ Merlin quipped weakly, lightening the tension in the room._

_Arthur chuckled despite himself. ‘If we’re talking in terms of the King, your very existence would be an insult,’ he replied, quickly sobering._

_Merlin smiled, sad but defiant. ‘I know,’ he said simply. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Camelot at some point, you know, I’ve heard it’s a sight to behold,’ he added wistfully._

_‘It is,’ Arthur said with genuine feeling. ‘The castle is renowned for being the greatest in all of the Five Kingdoms. Everywhere you look there’s so much life, people going about their day-to-day chores, talking, laughing – it’s the reason I do things like chase murderous beasts half-way across the realm.’_

_Merlin laughed._

_‘Maybe someday, when the right people can see the truth, things could be different. Perhaps then, I wouldn’t have to worry about being executed for getting a drink for my friend,’ he said pointedly._

_‘Now_ that _… that would be something worth seeing, don’t you think?’_

 

* * *

 

Arthur sat up straighter and looked down at the notes strewn all over his desk. They were court records – the names and evidence presented for all those who’d been executed for sorcery in the past three years. Arthur had started on this little project about a week after he’d returned, and the list of injustices was still getting longer:

Sarah Coates: found using spells to clean her home.

John Brooks: baker who used sorcery to make his wears taste better.

Thomas Colins: prevented structure destabilisation of his home with enchantments

Peta Moore: made a magical poultice to ease her mother’s joint pain.

On an on it went. People were using magic just to make their lives a little easier, but were caught out and executed for it. His father showed absolutely no mercy – he didn’t care for the reason. If it was magic, it was evil, so the accused was disposed of.

_Magic doesn’t have to be evil you know._

Bloody sorcerer. No matter how hard he tried, Arthur just couldn’t get the words out of his head. He should really just forget about Merlin – the odds were Arthur would never even see him again anyway.

_Knock knock_

‘Sire? You must be in the throne room very soon! This is a very important day for you!’ came George’s nervous call.

Right. Today was the day he would choose a Quest and prove to his people that we was worthy of being their king. This Quest needs to be completed entirely alone, and would be one of the greatest defining moments in his life.

No sorcerer could get in the way of that.

 

* * *

 

He had to travel to the Perilous Lands.

Brilliant. Even his subconscious was against him.

Arthur didn’t even remember the conversation with his father or the council, he barely recalled finding his way back to his room. His head was reeling. Again.

He paced his chambers, mumbling anxiously under his breath about being bewitched and the fates themselves being out to get him.

‘Arthur?’

He jumped a foot in the air and turned, face burning to see a bemused Morgana standing in his doorway.

‘I did knock,’ she said, and he nodded distractedly, waving a vague hand as invitation to come in.

‘Well, quite the day you’ve had,’ she began, strolling into his chambers and perching delicately on his desk, rearranging the skirts of her purple, embroidered gown. ‘The Perilous Lands are certainly not to be taken lightly.’

Arthur groaned and slumped down onto one of his dining chairs. ‘Believe me, I know. But I can’t exactly change my Quest now, can I?’

Growing up, Morgana had always been someone he could confide in – the sibling he’d never admit to wanting. She’d always been there to listen whenever he griped about Uther, and she kept him in line during his, as Gwen liked to put it, ‘bully phase’. But over the past year or so, she’d been different. Colder, more calculating – so much so that even Gwen was starting to worry about her.

It began when Morgause had attacked the castle with the Knights of Idirsholas, putting everyone to sleep except, somehow, Morgana. Whatever happened while everyone was sleeping had changed her into what she is now, but she’d never spoke of it to anybody.

So nowadays, Arthur never knew where he stood with her. There were many times (like now) when he wished they still had their easy camaraderie, so he could have someone to speak freely with.

‘Arthur? What is this?’

Arthur’s head snapped up so quickly he cricked his neck, gaze narrowing in on the sheet of parchment held in her hand. The list he’d be working on. He’d left so quickly to choose his Quest he’d forgotten to hide it.

Quickly he got to his feet and tried snatching the incriminating writing away from her, but she dodged him easily. ‘It’s nothing, just some research I’ve been doing, not especially important but if I could just get that back–’

‘Arthur,’ she said sternly, her eyes narrowed. ‘What’s. Going. On.’

He sighed in defeat, and stopped attempting to grab the parchment. ‘It’s just what it says. A list of people executed for sorcery, and what they had done with it.’

‘What, getting ideas for when you’re King already? You haven’t even finished your Quest yet, don’t get ahead of yourself,’ she spat, and Arthur winced. He should’ve known she’d interpret it like that, he knew she’d never condoned executions for sorcery.

‘Look at what they did Morgana,’ Arthur replied quietly. ‘Would you have executed them for that?’

Morgana’s disgusted expression melted away into one of surprise.

‘What?’ she whispered.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. ‘Look at it Morgana! Those people never hurt anyone!  
How could they possibly have deserved what happened to them?’

Suddenly, Morgana looked incredibly vulnerable. ‘You… don’t think they deserved it. Even though they used magic,’ she breathed.

‘Look, I know. It goes against everything we’ve ever known but how can I believe that magic is the epitome of evil when all these people did was – why are you laughing?’ he demanded, startled by her abrupt, somewhat hysterical laughter. ‘I’m being serious here!’

‘Yes Arthur, you are. You know you’ve never been able to lie to me. And don’t worry,’ she said once her mirth subsided, though still clutching her sides. ‘I won’t tell Uther about your side project, but I have to know – what on earth brought this about?’

‘Well,’ Arthur shifted uncomfortably under her expectant look. Then his shoulders slumped as he resigned himself to going the whole way with this. ‘You remember a few months ago when I went out past our borders to chase a magic beast?’

‘Of course I do, Uther was furious. Until you defeated it and came back with the culprit, that is,’ she confirmed.

‘Right, well, I may not have been… entirely alone in doing so.’ She suddenly looked very interested. ‘Oh, not like _that_ Morgana! Honestly, who teaches you these things I’ll never know. Not. A word,’ he cut her off before she could reply. She grinned at him deviously. ‘Anyway, the fact is, I had help from a man I met in a tavern, and he introduced me to his friend who owns an inn who alsohappenstobeasorcerer,’ he finished in a rush.

Morgana was speechless. Arthur felt very proud.

‘Are you telling me that you – Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, a kingdom that refuses to accept magic of any kind – not only took the help of a sorcerer, but actually asked for it?’ she summarised, incredulously.

‘I know! Even if it was technically Gwaine’s idea, it was dangerous, and reckless and it could’ve gotten me killed but it didn’t. He even saved my life, knowing the whole time that I was from Camelot. I doubt he knew I was the Prince but still.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Gaius told me that my mother loved magic, even if she couldn’t use it. Father always told me that she was betrayed by those she thought were her friends but all these years I’ve been hoping to find something to show me how she could feel that way and now, finally, I have. This sorcerer used magic to stop the killer and save my life, and he asked for nothing in return. He even ranted to me about my father! He’s clearly unhappy with the situation in Camelot, but he still wants to visit one day when he’s free to. How can you say someone like that has been “corrupted by evil”?’

By the end of his speech, Arthur was panting harshly. Morgana’s expression was priceless – she looked gobsmacked, though, like the Lady she is, quickly collected herself.

‘Well, well, Arthur Pendragon. Who knew you had it in you.’ She smirked, but it was softened by her wondrous tone. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny.

Arthur panicked, trying to go over everything he’d just said in his mind. How had he offended her? When he was younger he could never make her cry even when he actually tried to, usually after she’d beaten him at swordplay.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Yes, well. As you said, I have other things to focus on right now. The Perilous Lands are, shockingly, rather dangerous so…’ he trailed off, and risked another glance as her. To his immense relief, it seemed that her sudden, unfathomable tears were gone.

‘Well, I should leave you to it then,’ she said with a smile. In that moment, she looked so much like the Morgana he’d known it made his heart ache.

‘What, I don’t even get a token of good fortune?’ he called jokingly as she reached the doors to his chambers.

Inexplicably, she hesitated at his insincere request, before turning back to him with a small, but genuine smile.

‘Since when have you needed luck?’

And with flourish of her gown, she was gone.

Arthur grinned, happier than he’d been in months. He’d never say it out loud, but having her support really did mean a lot to him. Perhaps they didn’t have to be so distant after all. She didn’t seem all that opposed to his newfound views on magic either. Maybe, just maybe they could even work together to change Camelot, piece by piece.

_Now_ that _… that would be something worth seeing, don’t you think?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, surprise?
> 
> So, I went back and watched some old episodes and it inspired me to keep writing, so here we are. 
> 
> Bit of a shorter chapter this time around, but I debated this for so long in my head. I’m so conflicted about where I’m going with Morgana. She makes such a good antagonist but I just really want them to be friends, ok? She’s such a strong character, I feel like she could’ve been a massive enabler for Arthur and Merlin if she hadn’t been twisted up by Morgause. I’m basing this story around season 3, but obviously things are different because Merlin wasn’t there. In case it wasn’t really clear in the chapter, Morgana is still helping Morgause but she never disappeared with her. We will get that story at some point as well. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reviews/kudos! By my reckoning, we’re about halfway there so thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~Seagrass12


	5. Chapter 5

‘Doesn’t look happy, does he?’

‘Always too serious about everything. You need to learn to appreciate the journey of life Arthur. Not everything has a deadline, you know. Enjoy yourself.’

Arthur’s eye twitched in annoyance.

‘ _What_ are you doing here?’ he demanded.

Merlin looked mildly offended. ‘What do you mean? We heard you were in town so we came to say hello.’

‘That and it seemed like you were heading towards the Perilous Lands, but that’s ridiculous,’ added Gwaine. ‘Everyone knows that anyone who goes in doesn’t come out.’

Arthur took a few deep breaths and prayed to any deity that might be listening for patience. Honestly, with the amount of times he’d had to do this because of these two he may as well take up meditation and be done with it.

‘I am here, on a Quest,’ Arthur enunciated slowly. ‘A very important Quest that will likely determine the man I will become, and one that must be undertaken _alone._ ’

Arthur heaved himself up off the hard stone floor of the Fisher King’s castle, using his sword as leverage. He was exhausted. After travelling days through bandit-infested woods to reach the Perilous Lands then fighting off anything that tried to kill him on his way to the castle, he felt dead on his feet. His most recent adversaries had been a half-dozen wyverns, from which he almost hadn’t escaped. Actually-

‘Well you’re doing a marvellous job. I’m sure it takes a truly _great_ man to become wyvern fodder,’ was Merlin’s sarcastic input. ‘You do realise that you’d be dead if we weren’t here, right?’

‘That’s not the point _Mer_ lin! I’m supposed to be proving myself as a worthy–’ Arthur cut himself off abruptly. He’d almost forgotten – Merlin still didn’t know about that particular aspect of his life.

Merlin and Gwaine studied him a moment, before Merlin crowed triumphantly. ‘Yes! I knew it was a prince thing! Ten gold pieces Gwaine, pay up.’

Arthur tuned out the rest of the exchange.

Well, that was just brilliant.

‘Right! Well, if you two don’t mind, I’m off the find the Golden Trident. That was the whole point of this Quest,’ he cut in, interrupting their haggling. Deciding that he now wasn’t the time to deal with such things, Arthur hobbled towards the stairwell, completely ignoring his companions and grumbling about bloody observant sorcerers all the while.

 

* * *

 

One Golden Trident later, the trio found themselves back at Merlin’s inn, each nursing a cup of mead. It was decidedly busier than the last time Arthur saw it, with nearly every table occupied by human and creature alike. Some people Arthur had no name for, but all were chatting easily, entirely comfortable with their surroundings.

For a moment, Arthur just watched their interactions, marvelling at the diversity Merlin had managed to bring together. _This is what I want to see in my kingdom,_ he thought to himself. Everyone here was an equal regardless of their race or status. They all shared the same roof, ate the same food and listened to the same drunken stories together. However, Arthur was well aware of the dark cloud casting an ominous shadow over the moment – the fact that they were brought here through fear, because no one else would take them in.

_I can change that_.

Despite not being around any form of magic for the past few months, Arthur found he was handling the atmosphere quite well. He didn’t jump when his mug was refilled by a floating bottle, and he only caught himself staring once at one of the creatures he had no name for. At first the creature had appeared human (despite his mannerisms), but then he’d turned to reveal a tail protruding from underneath his cloak and Arthur couldn’t help himself. ‘That’s a troll’s thrall, best steer clear of him,’ Merlin had helpfully informed him.

As he watched plate of food fly through the air towards one of the tables, a thought occurred to him. ‘Say, Merlin? Shouldn’t you be, oh I don’t know, running your inn?’ he inquired pointedly, gesturing to the packed dining hall.

Merlin just laughed. ‘You’re only thinking of this now?’ Arthur scowled. ‘When we headed out after you, I left Calvin in charge. He knows how to handle things around here,’ he explained, gesturing to a man behind the bar that Arthur thought he vaguely recognised. ‘You on the other hand can’t exactly take on wyverns _alone_ so…’ he trailed off with a grin.

‘About that… you knew who I was this entire time, didn’t you?’ Arthur asked flatly.

Merlin looked sheepish. ‘Well, maybe try at least changing your name next time you want to be discreet,’ he said.

Arthur hung his head and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes in tired frustration. ‘And you were just humouring me this whole time? You couldn’t have said anything earlier?’ he accused.

‘I have _magic_ Arthur, and you’re the heir to the throne of Camelot. If you knew I was onto you there’s no way you would’ve trusted me to help. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you would attack me the second you realised because of some misguided notion that pre-emptive strikes are the best answer,’ Merlin shot back, frustration creeping into his tone.

Arthur opened his mouth to retort but the words caught in his throat. Merlin was right – again. He would never have trusted a sorcerer who knew his true identity with his life. Of course, there’s no way he’d let Merlin think he could keep proving him wrong, so he intelligently responded, ‘You’re an idiot, Merlin.’

Merlin snorted. ‘Well you’re a prat, you don’t see me complaining.’

‘Excuse me, I am royalty,’ Arthur began in a mock haughty tone. ‘You can’t address me like that.’

‘Deepest apologies _sire_. I am but a poor innkeeper trying to keep my home free of undesirables,’ Merlin responded with a mischievous grin.

‘Are you saying I’m undesirable? I’ll have you know I’m rather popular with the Ladies of the Court,’ Arthur said smugly.

‘And if you want to keep it that way I suggest you keep all interactions with them inside the Court. Five minutes of your actual personality and they’ll run screaming – that might put a damper on that reputation of yours, hmm?’ Merlin quipped back without missing a beat.

Arthur smacked him over the head. Gwaine, meanwhile, was roaring with laughter.

‘Well,’ Gwaine said, raising his mug in a toast. ‘Here’s to a Quest well done.’

‘Cheers,’ Merlin echoed, tapping his mug against Gwaine’s. Arthur stubbornly kept his own on the table.

‘Come on Arthur,’ Gwaine wheedled. ‘You’re glad we were there, admit it.’

‘I’ll do no such thing. This was supposed to be done–’

‘- _Alone_ ,’ finished Merlin. ‘We know, you’ve told us. But it wasn’t Arthur. You met the man on the bridge, right? Courage, Strength and Magic. You were never supposed to do this _alone_.’

Arthur remained mulishly silent.

 ‘Well, either way,’ said Gwaine with an easy smile. ‘We’re all alive, I think that’s something to celebrate.’

Arthur finally cracked a smile.

‘I’ll drink to that.’

 

* * *

 

Later that night when all the patrons had retreated to their rooms, Arthur had volunteered to help Merlin clear the room of the mess from dinner. Naturally, Arthur’s ‘help’ consisted of stacking some cups and plates, leaving the actual cleaning part to Merlin.

They worked in silence, it quickly went from comfortable to somewhat tense. Merlin was practically radiating tension, lips pressed firmly together as he swept the floors.

‘Alright _Mer_ lin, what is it? You look like your about to burst,’ Arthur said when he couldn’t handle the awkward silence any longer.

Merlin jumped about a foot in the air when he spoke. He spun to face Arthur, denial written all over his face but Arthur stopped any attempts at misdirection with a flat look.

‘Well,’ Merlin dragged out the word. ‘It’s about today. Your Quest.’

Arthur could feel that stubborn annoyance creeping back in on him.

Merlin sighed. ‘Look. You seem to get into these situations a lot, and by now I’m sure you’ve realised that not all problems can be solved with swords alone.’

‘Thank you, for that vote of confidence. Ever the optimist you are.’

A small frown of irritation was the only indication that Merlin had even heard him, as he carried on. ‘I just want you to know… if you ever need help, I’d be happy to lend a hand. Within reason, obviously.’

Arthur was floored. ‘Are you actually offering me – the Crown Prince of Camelot – magical help?’ he clarified in a hushed whisper. They weren’t likely to be overheard in an entirely empty room, but even mentioning it still felt like some kind of taboo.

_And there’s that irony again._

‘You don’t have to take it,’ Merlin said hastily. ‘But, well… here.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round bead, pushing it across the table to Arthur. The no-longer-secret Prince picked it up cautiously, examining it closely. The bead was mostly black, interrupted only by a tiny, golden engraving of a dragon, remarkably similar to the Pendragon crest.

‘What is this?’ he asked, still studying the tiny object. He knew it had to be magic in some way, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t detect anything incriminating about it at all.

‘It’s a means of communicating,’ Merlin explained, eager now that Arthur hadn’t outright refused the gift. ‘See the engraving? If you need to contact me, tap it three times and say my name. I’ll know you want to speak with me and I’ll find a way of getting to you.’

Arthur looked at the ceramic with newfound admiration. ‘And what about the other way? What if you want to contact me? How will I know if you’ve gotten the message?’ he inquired.

‘I’ll be able to connect with the bead – it’ll react so you’ll know about it. Nothing big! Don’t worry,’ he added, seeing Arthur’s alarm. ‘It’ll vibrate. Keep it in your pocket and you’re the only one who’ll know about it.’

‘That’s a nice trick,’ Arthur conceded.

‘So… you’ll take it?’

Arthur hesitated, before pocketing the odd little messenger. ‘I’ll take it, but it must only be used in an absolute emergency, understand?’

Merlin nodded, beaming smile emerging across his face. Arthur couldn’t help but smile back.

Only a little though, he had an image to maintain.

 

* * *

 

The ancient castle was cold as ever. Icy winds swept through cracks in the flagstones and imprinted their frigidity onto everything they touched. The multiple candles lit around the high-ceiling room did little to stave off the chill, but served to illuminate the faces of those who had gathered in the chamber. They all stood close to the stone alter in the centre of the room where candle fire was the most abundant. Each had warming charms and enchantments on their clothing but shivered still.

They all looked up when Merlin strode across the uneven floor, soft leather boots making little sound on the stone. Some lowered their eyes in deference, to which Merlin grimaced uncomfortably and quickly waved aside the formality.

‘No need for that Alator, please. Am I the last? Sorry, I had a minor crisis to deal with,’ Merlin said with a sheepish smile.

‘So we’ve heard. Arthur Pendragon, I presume?’ inquired Iseldir, one of the druid Chieftains.

‘I’m honestly surprised you’re still alive,’ remarked Taliesin from where he lounged against a pillar, the only one not suffering from the cold.

‘You’re a Seer,’ stated Merlin flatly. Taliesin simply shrugged and smiled benevolently.

‘You’re not the last Merlin, our summoner is yet to arrive it seems,’ Alice noted. The elderly healer was bundled up tightly, her particular brand of magic not quite suited to keeping the cold at bay. Unfortunately, the laws of the Circle dictated that they gather at a place of the summoner’s choosing.

The Circle of Magic was comprised of the current leaders of the magical community. The Circle itself had always been present, and was an integral part of magical society. It consisted of seven members; a Priest and Priestess of the Old Religion, a Chieftain to represent the druids, a Keeper of magic, a Medium, a Dragonlord, and representative of the people. This representative controlled the Network – a system of intelligence for magical people to communicate through. Recently, this had meant a means for people to seek help in escaping Uther’s men.

For many years after the purge, the Circle of Magic was considered disbanded – there were too few people who met the criteria, and even less who were willing to get themselves involved and risk persecution by Uther. The dissolution was a great blow to the magical community, who suddenly found themselves without leaders for support or a way of contacting anyone for help.

It was Alice who reinvented the Network and decided to gather the Circle once more. After her escape from Camelot, she had travelled all across the lands and offered her healing services, building connections and determining interest. After decades of hard work, she had established a chain of communication that was widely used by those with magic, but was a secret jealously guarded from those without. Evidently, it was an old friend of hers (ironically one within Camelot) that first mentioned the Circle to her, and since then she had worked tirelessly to reassemble it.

The first she recruited was Iseldir of the druids. He has seen her efforts in rebuilding the Network and believed that they had their chance once more. He told her of the prophecies of Emrys and the Once and Future King that heralded a new era, and that he believed Arthur Pendragon to be the one they needed. He convinced her that locating Emrys was imperative, so she began sending out word to her people.

Next, with the druids’ help, she had tracked down Alator of the Catha. He in turn contacted Morgause and Nimueh, the last remaining Priestesses of the Triple Goddess at the time. Alice herself took up the role of the people’s representative. With more than half of the positions filled and word spreading of the Circle rising again, Anhora, Keeper of the Unicorns had appeared and offered his advice and commitment.

It would be two years after Anhora joined before Merlin was found, and recognised as Emrys. Merlin smiled wistfully at the memory. He’d been living with his father, learning all he could from him when Alice appeared with her offer. She’d come to enlist the help of a Dragonlord, but Balinor had staunchly refused. Instead, Merlin took up the role, despite not yet possessing the ability to command dragons. When he arrived, Iseldir took one look at him and that was that.

When the Circle (bar one) gathered together for the first time in decades, Taliesin had appeared. Casually fading into existence beside Merlin and scaring the living daylights out of him, he proclaimed that he had been the Medium of the Circle since his death three hundred years ago and would be happy to continue the role, thanks for asking.

So the Circle of Magic was complete. Sanctuaries such as Merlin’s inn were established all across the realm, though Merlin’s was built the closest to Camelot, being a day’s hard ride away. Since then however, it hadn’t quite been smooth sailing all the way. There were conflicts within the group to be dealt with, and tensions were running high with Uther’s continued executions.

_Well,_ Merlin thought wryly. _T_ _he conflicts were mostly just between me and-_

‘I apologise for the delay,’ came a feminine voice from the doorway, interrupting Merlin’s reminiscing. Morgause swept in with a grace only a Priestess of the Old Religion is capable of. She mocked them by wearing a sheer red gown that would do nothing to protect her from the frigid conditions, but considering it was her castle, she probably had some kind of spell around it to keep the chill from touching her.

‘We only have limited time, my Lady. I care little for your games,’ Anhora spoke in his wizened voice, unflappable as ever.

‘And yet you are a Keeper, known for their love of them,’ Morgause retorted easily.

‘Why have you summoned the Circle, Priestess?’ asked Iseldir.

‘A situation has come to my attention, and I believe it requires all of our input,’ she replied, turning to look directly at Merlin. ‘My sources have told me that recently Arthur Pendragon has undergone something of a personality change. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Emrys?’

Merlin met her gaze coolly. ‘If you’re suggesting I’ve enchanted him in some way I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken. That’s far more your area of expertise, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘And yet,’ Morgause continued, staring him down. ‘It would seem that his views on magic have changed quite drastically in the past few months. He’s even looking into old executions – the reasons they were caught, not just the fact that they had magic.’

That caused a stir amongst those gathered. Merlin could feel his eyebrows rising in surprise.

‘Truly?’ whispered Alator. ‘He is questioning Uther’s methods?’

‘So it would seem,’ was Morgause’s clipped reply.

‘That is news indeed, but I fail to see how it’s cause for concern,’ said Iseldir. ‘This is what we have been hoping for, all these years of isolation.’

‘And yet, if he is enchanted, how do you think he will react when it all comes out? And it will. You know it always does, what with your Network, Alice, and Emrys’s interference.’

‘Well, allow me to ease your worries Morgause,’ Merlin said, colder than the castle walls. ‘I saw Arthur several hours ago. He was not enchanted, nor has he ever been during our meetings. Unless you would call me a liar?’ he challenged.

Morgause smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. ‘You are a liar, Emrys. Even now Pendragon doesn’t know who you truly are.’

‘He knows I have magic. Until we learn to trust each other beyond necessity, that’s enough. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past months, it’s that Arthur Pendragon is a good man. There is no longer any doubt in my mind that he is the Once and Future King,’ Merlin finished strongly, entirely sincere. Despite his royal arrogance and apparent need to mock the warlock whenever he got the chance, Merlin was confident that Arthur could be exactly what they needed.

Before meeting him, protecting Arthur seemed like a duty to Merlin – a chore. He was Emrys, and Arthur was the Once and Future King, so keeping him safe was his job. But now, it was more than that. Somehow, without conscious effort, Arthur Pendragon was well on his way to becoming a friend.

There was silence around the chamber as the occupants let that declaration sink in. Most looked hopeful. Only Taliesin and Morgause varied, the former with a knowing smile and the latter, a scowl.

‘Let us hope so. You’ve let him into your Sanctuary after all. Should he choose to betray you, the consequences will be severe,’ she said.

‘You have never taken an interest in Camelot’s views in such a way before, my Lady,’ Alator commented. ‘Even less so in Emrys’s well-being.’

‘Understatement,’ Merlin muttered under his breath.

‘Why the change of heart?’

Morgause hesitated before speaking. ‘My – source – seems convinced that Arthur has changed his ways, and she has seen fit to alter our course of action. I just wanted to be sure of the wisdom of such choices.’

‘Right. Remind us again of your original course of action?’ jibed Merlin.

Morgause gave a patronising smile. ‘Come now, we mustn’t talk business during Circle meetings.’

Merlin glared.

‘If that is all then, I shall take my leave,’ the Keeper stated, then promptly vanished.

‘I too, must depart. There is much to be done,’ said Iseldir. Alator nodded and the two disappeared in a swirl of icy wind and dead leaves.

‘Come on Alice, I’ll walk you out. I need to have a word with you anyway,’ said Merlin, and Alice studied him in a way that never failed to make him feel like a bug on a pin. Finally, she smiled and thanked him, making her way with him towards the exit. He could almost feel Morgause’s stare burning a hole into his back. Wait, could she actually do that?

‘What? No dramatic exit from you, Emrys? You really need to work on your flair. We got an image to maintain after all!’

Merlin’s eyes glowed and a loose piece of flagstone flew towards Taliesin. Naturally, it went straight through him and shattered on the pillar.

‘That’s more like it,’ Taliesin said, satisfied. Then he faded away, chuckling to himself all the while.

When they were safely out of Morgause’s castle Merlin turned to Alice, who met his gaze with laughing eyes.

‘You shouldn’t let her get to you, my boy,’ she said.

‘I’ve lost count of the amount times she’s tried to kill me or attack Camelot. How can she not get to me?’ Merlin replied, slightly petulant.

Alice smiled indulgently. ‘And yet, you’re still alive. Now what did you need?’

Merlin turned his mind back to the task at hand. ‘I need you to contact your Network members in Camelot. I’ve given Arthur a way to call for me, should he need it. Knowing Camelot, that’s likely to be sooner rather than later, so please just let them know that I may need a safe way in and out of the city in the near future.’

Alice looked stunned, and Merlin called that a win. ‘Really? Well, I can see why Morgause suspected magic was involved. This is quite the development.’

Merlin grinned. ‘Believe me, I know.’

‘Well then, I’ll get the word out. But Merlin,’ she said warningly. ‘Do be careful, won’t you?’

‘You know me Alice,’ Merlin reassured her. ‘I’m always careful.’

For some reason, she didn’t look convinced.

‘Oh, and there’s one more thing,’ he added. Alice looked back at him questioningly. ‘A few months ago, we had some issues with a manticore. But, by the time we’d figured that out, someone had already summoned a Guardian to deal with it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’

Alice gave an innocent smile. ‘What would an old woman like me know about those creatures?’

Merlin grinned broadly. ‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely.

Alice’s gaze softened.

‘You’re quite welcome, Merlin.’

 

* * *

 

When Arthur returned to Camelot, Trident in hand, the entire Court was there to celebrate his success.

As his father sang his praises Arthur felt his smile grow strained once again, and wondered if this was going to be a regular occurrence. It seemed that recently, his greatest accomplishments were only successful due to the timely assistance of his new acquaintances. Or, friends? Comrades? He didn’t really know where they stood. Saving each other’s lives should equate to more than just passing acquaintances, but could he really call a sorcerer his friend?

His fingers brushed against the small bead resting in his coat pocket.

_Yes_ , he decided. Being a sorcerer’s friend was a definite possibility at this point.

‘Congratulations Arthur. I told you you wouldn’t need that token.’

Arthur turned from where he was seated beside his father for the celebratory feast to see Morgana had taken the unoccupied seat beside him. His previous neighbour had left awhile ago, apparently deciding to try his luck with the Ladies dancing around the Court.

‘Of course. My skills are unparalleled, a Quest like this was nothing,’ Arthur boasted. Morgana was unimpressed.

‘Really? Because you had such an odd look on your face when you presented the Trident. Now that I think about it, it was remarkably similar to when you returned from slaying that beast,’ she noted lightly, sipping at her wine.

Arthur’s chest deflated a little, and he glanced at her anxiously, waiting for the condemnation.

She caught his look and smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry Arthur. I promised I would say nothing to Uther, and I stand by that. It’s quite the opposite actually. I want to help you with this – the executions, the magic, everything.’

Arthur stared, absolutely floored for the second time in as many days.

She sighed exasperatedly. ‘I’ve never made my displeasure of those killings a secret, Arthur. This can’t be that surprising to you.’

‘No, not at all. I obviously saw this coming. Definitely.’ Arthur tried to sound convincing. Really, he did.

_Clearly I should stop forming any preconceptions whatsoever about anyone,_ he thought. _If this keeps up people could take me for a fool._

He absently felt for the small bead in his pocket again.

Suddenly, the doors to the throne room burst open, quickly dampening the festivities. A group of guards Arthur recognised as being on night patrol that evening walked in, dragging a young man in peasants clothing along with them. The youth was white as a sheet and visibly shaking.

Arthur felt a stone drop in the pit of his stomach. Beside him, he could hear Morgana’s sharp intake of breath.

‘My Lords.’ The soldiers bowed deeply. ‘I apologise for the interruption Sire, but this man was found practising sorcery in the streets.’

Like water dripping down a window pane, Arthur watched as his father’s face melted from one of slight annoyance at the interruption to an expression cold and hard as stone.

_It’s his obsession_

Merlin’s voice rang through his head, and in that moment, Arthur believed that there had never been a greater truth spoken.

‘I may need that help sooner than expected,’ Arthur said into Morgana’s ear over the outcry that had erupted throughout the room at the soldier’s words.

_Not just hers though,_ Arthur thought. He reached a hand into his coat pocket and gripped the small bead tightly feeling for the small engraving. He tapped it three times and whispered a name, entirely drowned out by the din of the room. After a moment, the bead vibrated in his hand, and Arthur smiled grimly.

_Be careful, Merlin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Sorry for the delay but ‘tis the season. Everything gets busier at the end of December.
> 
> Disclaimer: if you recognise anything in this story then it’s from the show. I didn’t want to go over the whole quest because it pretty much plays out the same as in the episode, minus the eye of the phoenix complication. I also didn’t want to spoil too much if there’s people who haven’t seen it yet.
> 
> Thanks again for the encouragement, you guys are brilliant. I hope this chapter cleared up a bit of what’s been going on for you.
> 
> Happy reading and Merry Christmas!
> 
> ~Seagrass12


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur was pacing.

It had been a day since the young sorcerer was discovered, but still there was no word from Merlin. Logically, Arthur knew that it was quite a distance from the inn to Camelot and that he would have to dodge the guards and knights on his way in, but he still couldn’t help worrying that it would be too late.

Evidently, the young sorcerer in question had been caught levitating some objects too heavy to lift to help rebuild his parent’s house, which had been damaged in the last attack on Camelot. He’d clearly believed that he’d be safe at night, when the festivities for Arthur’s return were ongoing.

The door to his chambers swung open and he spun around, looking hopefully at the door. What he found was not the gangly frame of a sorcerer, but Morgana looking very, very angry.

‘What is wrong with that man?!’ she screeched. Arthur resisted the urge to cover his ears. ‘That poor boy did nothing but lift some stones but he’ll still be executed! It’s not right, Arthur! Where is this friend of yours anyway?’

Arthur blinked at the sudden shift of her ire but quickly regrouped. ‘He’s on his way Morgana. At the least it’s a day’s hard ride for him to get here. He’s coming.’

‘That’s not very reassuring coming from a man pacing his own chambers like a caged beast,’ she snapped.

‘So my father wouldn’t budge then? What of the boy?’ Arthur asked quickly, changing the subject so that he couldn’t dwell on Merlin’s continued absence.

Morgana had been down to the dungeons as much as she could, alternating with Gwen to check the guard schedules and give reassurances to the boy. If she wasn’t there, she was helping Arthur in negotiating with Uther, though that had been about as effective as screaming at a stone wall.

‘He’s terrified, and as he should be. His execution has been set to tomorrow at dawn,’ she informed him solemnly.

Arthur closed his eyes in resignation and ran a tired hand through his hair.

‘Alright then,’ he said, straightening up and shifting seamlessly into his role as leader. ‘We need to get things started. Gaius has agreed to get us a sleeping draught for the guards. Once he’s freed, we need to take him through the secret passage from behind the shield in the armoury – its worked for us before, I don’t see why it shouldn’t now. Then–’

A knock on the door cut him off abruptly. Both royals whipped their heads around in alarm, but it was not the commanding baritone of the King that came from the other side, but the quieter, stuttering call of a servant.

‘My Lord? Sorry to disturb you, my Lord, but the Court Physician wanted me to give you this, my Lord.’

The pair shared a glance before Arthur strode to the door and cracked it open. The servant hurriedly handed over a folded piece of parchment, bowed and scurried away. From his clothing it was clear he was a kitchen hand of some sort, so not quite used to being in the presence of the royal family, much less being sent to their private chambers. Arthur had to wonder if Gaius planned it that way – he knew the old man was crafty when he wanted to be, and he must have realised that there would be no chance of a servant like that risking a peek at his message.

Arthur closed the door and opened the note, eyes widening as he read the words. It was immediately clear that it was not written by Gaius’s hand – it was the messy scrawl of someone always in a rush, not the careful, steady script of the physician. Arthur had never seen this handwriting before, but had no doubts as to who it belonged to.

Grinning broadly, his threw his door open yet again and gestured for Morgana follow.

‘Arthur? What–’

‘No time, he’s here. Come _on_ , Morgana!’

He ushered her out the door and grabbed her wrist as they set off as fast as they dared towards Gaius’s chambers, note clutched securely in Arthurs palm.

_Let’s go make something worth seeing._

* * *

 

Merlin looked around the small, messily organised chambers of Camelot’s physician, Gaius. He knew that Alice’s contact was someone close to the King, but to think it was no other than one of Uther’s most trusted advisors. Not only that, but this was the very man he should have gone to all those years ago, had nothing distracted him in his journey from Ealdor. What a small world he lived in.

The man himself was currently watching Merlin inspect his haphazardly strewn anatomy books with an inscrutable expression on his face. Merlin wondered briefly if he and Alice worked together to perfect that look. Even since appearing at his doorway and speaking the designated pass phrase, Gaius had been oddly quiet, merely stepping back and allowing him entry then hailing a passing servant to send along his message to Arthur. That had been at least ten minutes ago.

‘So, Alice has told me a lot about you. She never used names, obviously, but it doesn’t take a scholar to put it all together after she sent me to you,’ Merlin flashed a humble grin, hoping to break the odd stalemate they had reached.

For a moment it seemed that Gaius wouldn’t respond. Just as Merlin started scrambling for anything else to say, he finally spoke. ‘Merlin… You’re Hunith’s son,’ he stated. It was not a question, but for the first time there was a hint of, _something_ in his eye.

‘Yes…?’ Merlin drawled slowly, wondering where this was going.

Gaius approached him and clasped his hand onto Merlin shoulder. ‘Well then, my boy. I think that you had better sit down and explain to me what on earth happened to you on your journey here.’ The hand on Merlin’s shoulder suddenly turned vice-like as Gaius steered him to what was probably his dining table, but was now covered in bottles, books and a (very creepy) rabbit mask.

Merlin was stunned for a moment at the sudden change in demeanour before his brain caught up with the question.

‘Oh, right.’

‘I didn’t hear a word from you. If not for Alice…’ Gaius trailed off, looking pained. ‘I thought you dead, Merlin. I was almost sure of it,’ he finished quietly.

‘Well, for a while there, so was I,’ said Merin with a self-depreciating smile.

And so he began his story.

 

* * *

 

Saying goodbye to his mother was just as hard as he thought it would be. There were tears falling over tiny brave smiles and utterances of ‘It’s for the best’ and ‘Gaius can help, you’ll see.’

Merlin gave Hunith a smile that he hoped looked convincing, glancing around one more time for his best friend, Will. Will hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he learned that Merlin was heading to Camelot of all places (‘You’ll get yourself killed stopping some bloody kids from fighting or something how can this possibly be a good idea?’) but Merlin had still hoped that he’d put his anger aside long enough to say goodbye.

‘He’ll understand one day Merlin, don’t worry. You won’t be gone forever after all.’ As always, Hunith had picked up on exactly what bothered him. Merlin wasn’t sure if it was something all mothers could do or if Hunith was particularly adept at it. He liked to think it was a combination of the two.

‘I’ll write so often it’s like I’m not even gone,’ he promised.

With a final hug, he hitched his knapsack up more securely onto his shoulders and set off, never once looking back.

Camelot was a three-day journey from Ealdor, so Merlin knew that he had to make the provisions he packed last. The first day and night he meticulously rationed out the food he’d brought and made sure to refill his canteens with water whenever possible. For this first day, everything went smoothly.

It wasn’t until the second day that it all went sideways.

As dusk fell onto the second evening, Merlin had just began collecting firewood to camp with for the night when shouts and the pounding of boots through the undergrowth filled the small clearing he’d chosen.

Bandits.

Brilliant.

Merlin immediately moved into action, abandoning the firewood and heading for any kind of shelter he could find. He didn’t dare use magic – there were at least two dozen men and he’d never done more than fell a tree, plus if these people realised they had a sorcerer this close to Camelot? Well, from what Merlin knew of King Uther, he’d probably overlook their background if they offered him someone like that. So instead, he did the only other logical thing.

He ran.

He wasn’t all that big, and his stature let him slide through small spaces and run move faster than the burly men carrying heavy weapons – some even had mismatched armour they’d clearly scavenged from somewhere (or someone). He was managing to put some distance between them, until inevitably…

He fell. He might be fast, but he never claimed to be the most coordinated person in the world.

It didn’t take long for the bandits to catch up after that. The smell of unwashed bodies and leather filled Merlin’s nose, causing his eyes to water from the stench. There was a flash of metal, a pain in his head, then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Merlin came to with a groan. He was lying on something cold and hard and entirely unpleasant while his head was pounding something fierce and his mouth was drier than sand.

Dimly, he became aware of something prodding him in the side.

‘Oi,’ hissed a voice from above him. ‘Oi you, you might want to get up. You’ll regret it if you don’t I tell you now.’

Blearily, Merlin opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in a circular stone room with a high ceiling, filled with people of all shapes and sizes. As he dragged himself to his feet, he noted that the ‘room’ was more of a pit, with only jagged stone steps leading up to a single – and very likely locked – iron door.

Merlin staggered a little on standing, but a helpful hand steadied him. ‘Easy does it, there you go.’ Merlin turned to see a shaggy-haired man with a roguish grin take a step back, a wary but friendly glint in his eye.

‘Thanks for that,’ Merlin offered, then gesturing to the cell, ‘Um, where exactly am i?’

‘Ah, well,’ the man began uncomfortably, grin turning quickly to grimace. Before he could respond though, there was a clanking sound announcing the unlocking of the door before it was slammed open by an enormous, bearded man with a protruding belly who was wearing furs like a cape.

‘ALRIGHT!’ he boomed, spittle flying everywhere. ‘WHO’S NEXT TO FACE JARL’S CHAMPION!’

Merlin realised that most people, in this situation would attempt to avoid eye contact and make themselves as small and unnoticeable as possible. But for him, this ridiculous-looking oaf who thought that speaking in third person was sophisticated was the furthest thing from intimidating. In hindsight, he probably should have realised that although this Jarl looked like a buffoon, his very well-armed men did not.

At the time though, he couldn’t help himself.

He laughed. Trying desperately to turn it into a cough and failing quite spectacularly.

The man who’d helped him up looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. Jarl, zeroed in on him immediately, his face twisting into an awful sneer and Merlin realised then just how big a mistake he’d just made.

‘Well, it seems we have a volunteer.’ Merlin’s heart sank.

‘Are you ready my champion?’

Merlin wasn’t sure what he expected from a champion – maybe someone seven-foot-tall with arms the size of tree trunks and carrying a war hammer. What he definitely didn’t expect, was the only person in the room who’d deigned to help him to step forward and solemnly proclaim, ‘I am.’

‘Well then, BRING THEM!’ Jarl called, and so Merlin and the champion were jostled out of the pit by two heavily-muscled guards. They were led to an antechamber that Merlin guessed – from the jeering outside – would lead into some kind of arena. Jarl threw a couple of swords at their feet and wished them a mocking good luck before slamming the door shut behind him.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ the champion said into the quiet room, after the ringing from the slam had subsided.

‘It’s not your fault. I kind of walked into this one,’ Merlin replied with a rueful smile.

‘I’ll say. What were you thinking? Sane people usually don’t laugh in their captors’ face.’ The champion looked torn between laughing and screaming at him.

‘They don’t refer to themselves by name or wear capes either. Who is he anyway?’ Merlin asked.

‘Slave trader for Cenred’s kingdom. He doesn’t exactly work with Cenred, but the not-so-good King certainly isn’t stopping his activities,’ the champion replied with snort.

‘How’d you end up here then? Or is this your day job?’ Merlin jibed.

The champion laughed. ‘Nothing so nefarious. It was more a case of wrong time, wrong place, wrong drink. You know how it is. Well, maybe. I gotta say, you don’t look like the type to handle your alcohol well.’

‘I’ll have you know, I’m full of surprises.’

The two laughed in a strange comradery that could only be borne from a predicament like this. But the good humour soon died from the champion’s face.

‘They won’t be satisfied until one of us is dead, you know that, right?’

 Merlin thought hard. He’d never touched a sword in his life, but from the lean muscle just visible through the champion’s ratty shirt he’d guess that he had. There was no way he would win, and even if he could, he didn’t think he’d have it in him to kill this man. There was no way out of this. He would die.

Unless…

Merlin furiously debated with himself for what felt like hours but must have only been seconds. It was insane that he was even considering this. His magic had to be a secret, no one could know!

But, this man had tried his best to help him, was clearly not from Camelot if he was wandering through Cenred’s kingdom and was truly regretful about having to fight him. So…

‘What if I could give us a way out of this?’

The champion looked across at him sharply, but thankfully, didn’t outright dismiss him.

‘I could make a diversion big enough for us both to slip away. You’ve been doing these fights for a while now right? You know the layout of the room. Could you lead us to the exit?’

The champion mulled over his proposal. ‘I could,’ he replied carefully, ‘But you’d need one hell of a distraction, and I don’t see how you’d do that while also fighting me.’

‘I told you, I’m full of surprises.’

The champion’s gaze turned more calculating, but before he could respond the door to the arena flew open and guards came once again to usher them out. Merlin hastily picked up the sword dropped to the floor early by Jarl and glanced at the champion who met his eye, and simply gave a nod. Merlin exhaled heavily in relief, and nodded back before they were shoved unceremoniously out into the centre of the crowd.

‘AND NOW FOR OUR EVENING ENTERTAINMENT!’ came Jarl’s booming voice. Merlin was really beginning to loathe that sound. He looked around frantically for anything he could use. Just because he was going to use magic didn’t mean he wanted to be blatant about it in a room full of slave traders.

Then he saw it. Above the arena was a woven net, and not far from where it was tied stood one of the flaming torches illuminating the room.

Perfect.

‘LET THE FIGHT, BEGIN!’

The champion lunged at him, and Merlin clumsily parried to the jeers of the crowd, the force of the impact shaking the bones in his arm. For a second he worried that the champion wouldn’t give him the chance he thought he would, but then his rationality returned to him and he realised that this fight would probably already be over if this man truly wanted him dead.

Instead, he swung his sword in patterns that were easy enough to dodge until finally Merlin had the perfect position. His sword was crossed with the champion’s and held close to their chests, so no one (bar his opponent) would see his eyes. He reached for the gold raging beneath his skin, looked straight at the torch and focused as hard as he could on one thing:

_Burn._

He felt his eyes flash as bright as the flame and suddenly, not only the net, but several nearby drapes and some unlucky bandits’ clothing were all on fire from the blast.

Whoops.

The champion stared at him disbelievingly for a second before snapping back to reality, grabbing him by the wrist and barging through the throng of panicking people towards the stairwell across the room. Too busy trying to douse the flames, the slavers never even noticed.

The two ran all the way out of the stronghold and into the woods, both panting harshly but not daring to stop until they’d put some distance between them and their captors.

‘Full of surprises eh?’ the champion gasped between breaths when they finally collapsed near a small stream.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Merlin replied, just as breathlessly.

And for the second time that night, the two fell into hapless laughter.

‘I’m Gwaine,’ the newly-dubbed champion said. ‘And you are?’

‘Merlin.’

Gwaine laughed. ‘Magical Merlin. Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

Merlin groaned.

 

* * *

 

Merlin travelled with Gwaine for several days after that, partly because he had no idea where he’d managed to end up. Mostly though it was because honestly, Gwaine was just good company. He was endlessly curious about Merlin and – more specifically – Merlin’s magic.

Not that Merlin minded of course. It was actually quite refreshing to have someone to discuss magic with who wouldn’t openly condemn him for it or caution him into speaking in hushed whispers. It was just him, Gwaine, and an endless forest.

‘But, how do you do it?’ Gwaine asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as they weaved through the trees at an easy pace. This was the one thing that seemed to fascinate him the most. ‘You don’t use spells, I definitely would have heard it. Your eyes just glowed then boom! Fire!’

He was also childishly excited about the potential to make things explode.

‘I don’t know, Gwaine. I just always have,’ Merlin replied. ‘I don’t even know any spells, or anything about magic for that matter. That’s what I was going to Camelot for.’

‘Have I mentioned how stupid that idea is?’

‘Yes Gwaine, only about a thousand times.’

‘Just checking.’

Merlin laughed quietly. This was also a recurring conversation during their journey.

‘Well, if you want to know more about magic, I have heard some rumours here and there about a man that might be able to help, or at least point you in the right direction,’ Gwaine mused.

‘Are you serious? We’ve been walking for days and you only just thought to mention this?’ Merlin exclaimed incredulously.

‘Well no. We’ve actually been walking in the general direction of where he might be found for a while now,’ Gwaine grinned unrepentantly. Merlin resisted the urge to drop a branch on him.

‘Well, who is he then, what’s his story?’ Merlin questioned impatiently.

‘Well I don’t know too much. Word is he’s a bit of a hermit. But still, you never know,’ Gwaine replied cheerily.

‘Great, an unfriendly hermit. Does he at least have a name?’ Merlin grumbled.

Gwaine chuckled at his petulant tone, but replied nonetheless.

‘Balinor,’ he said. ‘His name is Balinor.’

 

* * *

 

‘Well, as I’m sure you can guess, Gaius, I ended up staying with Balinor these past few years. He taught me, well, everything about magic. Gwaine came and went of course, and he never once betrayed my secret. Once I joined the Circle and established a Sanctuary that sold alcohol though, he was by a lot more often. He does some good work for the Network now actually, he’s scarily good at picking up rumours.’

Gaius took a moment to take all of that in, before shaking his head incredulously. ‘You managed to end up with Balinor after all these years. And now you’ve even found the Once and Future King. The Old Religion smiles upon you Merlin, it really does.’

Merlin grinned brightly back at him only for it to slip off his face in alarm as the door was thrown open and the aforementioned King strode in, followed closely by a beautiful dark-haired woman. Merlin eyed the bracelet on her wrist warily, recognising it immediately and so realising that this woman must be the half-sister Morgause was so fond of.

So this was her mysterious source.

Merlin’s grin returned in full force as he took in Arthur’s flustered appearance and the woman’s dark scowl at the prince as she massaged her wrist.

‘Did you run all the way down here just to see little ol’ me? I knew you’d miss me,’ he joked.

‘Shut up _Mer_ lin,’ Arthur replied without missing a beat. Both Gaius and Morgause’s sister looked between the two in bemusement.

‘And you dragged this lovely young woman down with you. For shame, Arthur, for shame,’ Merlin continued, turning to the woman. ‘As you’ve no doubt gathered, I’m Merlin, Lady…’

‘Just Morgana, please. I’m King Uther’s ward,’ she replied, though she spoke the last four words with enough ice to freeze fire.

‘A pleasure,’ Merlin said politely.

_King Uther’s ward_. Well. Morgause’s secret plans for Camelot suddenly weren’t so secret anymore.

‘Yes, yes introductions are wonderful. Do you know what’s going on right now, Merlin?’ Arthur asked, impatient.

Merlin quickly sobered. ‘Yes, I’ve been around all afternoon picking up what I could of what’s happening.’ He hesitated before continuing. ‘I know you’ll hate me for asking this, but are you sure you want to be involved in this?’ Merlin asked, directing his question to the royalty in the room. ‘You know what’ll happen if we’re caught–’

‘Then we won’t get caught,’ interjected Morgana.

‘Morgana’s right. We know what we’re doing,’ agreed Arthur.

Merlin studied them both carefully, turning to Gaius who have a firm nod of approval.

‘With the amount of trouble you get into I have to wonder if you ever know what you’re doing, Arthur,’ Merlin couldn’t help but add. Arthur scowled.

‘But alright then,’ he said.

‘Let’s go commit treason.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, hi?
> 
> So, life happened and this chapter was sitting half-finished for a few months but there you go. Hope you enjoyed it and that getting a bit of Merlin’s backstory helped to clear up a few things. Next chapter we get back into the plot, and I think there will end up being two more chapters to go after this. I’m usually one of those people who thinks of new things to add in as I write so things end up way longer than I intended, but I’m actually sticking to my original plotline! Achievements!
> 
> This story is not abandoned at all, but I am back at university now with impending exams so I can’t guarantee regular updates, but I will when I can and this story will be finished.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me guys.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~Seagrass12


	7. Chapter 7

They waited until night fell. The stars and moon were blocked out by storm clouds that were gathering, turning the darkness thick and oppressive as they crept across the flagstones towards the dungeons. Even still, Arthur and Merlin wore dark cloaks with deep cowls that completely covered their faces to keep them from shining in the light of any torches they passed.

Morgana had gone to the armoury, Arthur’s key to the hidden door clutched firmly in her hand. She too would be dressed to hide from prying eyes, and not in the bright red cloak she was inordinately fond of. When she’d moved to head for the door to Gaius’s chambers still wearing it Merlin had cleared his throat pointedly and given her this _look._ Morgana had actually flushed. Arthur was ridiculously amused, but had fought valiantly to hold down a laugh that would definitely have earned him some kind of retribution from her later. Merlin’s eyes glinted with amusement when they met his though, so he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded completely.

When they’d made it across the courtyard and reached the stairwell to the dungeon Arthur breathed a silent sigh of relief. They hadn’t run into any guards yet, and they weren’t out in the open anymore. Of course, there would be more guards in the dungeons themselves, but one problem at a time.

‘This way,’ he whispered, jerking his heard towards the downward-spiralling staircase. Merlin nodded and waved an ‘after you’ gesture, mocking grin just visible underneath the cowl. Arthur scowled again. Bloody sorcerers.

They continued down in silence, broken only by the soft taps of their leather boots on the stone. Just as they were reaching the bottom, Merlin suddenly jerked to a stop, head whipping around to the side and tilting, as though listening for something. What a stone wall could possibly be telling him Arthur had no idea.

‘What?’ he hissed, impatiently. This close to the bottom, they couldn’t afford to stop now.

Merlin was silent a moment, before facing forward again. With a muttered, ‘Sorry,’ he continued on. Arthur wished he could see his face properly. What was that?

Shaking off the strangeness, Arthur carried on until finally the sounds of heavy, armoured feet pacing across the flagstones reached them. Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin to the wall where they pressed themselves against it, listening carefully.

‘Okay, we’re going to have to knock them out. Don’t kill them, okay?’ Arthur warned. Merlin gave an exasperated huff.

‘Of the two of us, who is more likely to end a life?’ Merlin retorted, gesturing pointedly to where the dagger concealed under Arthur’s cloak sat.

‘Just so we’re clear, _Mer_ lin.’

‘Well we’re clear, so let’s go. How many are there?’ Merlin questioned.

‘Four I think. That’s standard protocol for a night shift,’ Arthur responded. ‘We’ll go two and two. When I say – what?’ Merlin had already moved forward, directly into the guards’ view.

‘Merlin!’ Arthur rushed forward, pulling his dagger free as the guards drew their swords and advanced on his apparently-suicidal friend.

As the closest guard demanded their purpose in the dungeons, Arthur saw out of the corner of his eye the glow of two golden eyes the shadows of Merlin’s cowl, and heard the faintest whisper. The guards’ eyes rolled back in their head and they fell where they stood, swords clattering loudly to the ground.

‘What did you…?’ Arthur began.

‘They’re asleep,’ Merlin replied cheerily. ‘Bit less of a hassle, don’t you think? They may still have some bruises when they wake up though. That floor does not look comfortable.’

Sometimes Arthur forgot what Merlin was capable of. He wasn’t sure if it was a subconscious coping mechanism to deal with the conflicting views of Merlin as his friend and one of the kindest people he knew, and as the powerful sorcerer who could stop one of his own kind without so much as a word.

‘Right,’ Arthur said, when he realised that Merlin seemed to be waiting for a response. ‘Let’s go get this boy then.’

He sheathed his dagger and patted down the guards until he found the keys, as Merlin began to search for the condemned sorcerer. In a cell at the far end of the dungeons where drafts made it the coldest and generally most unpleasant, shivered the young man he was committing treason for.

‘Psst. You. Wake up,’ Arthur hissed at him. The boy jerked awake and looked around fearfully. Upon seeing two men in dark cloaks and not the knight’s red he was no doubt expecting, the fear on his face morphed into confusion.

‘Who-?’ he trailed off, looking between them. Merlin stepped forward and lowered his cowl, Arthur following his lead.

Arthur was expecting the boy to gasp, or perhaps jerk away when he saw Arthur, the Crown Prince of Camelot in his cell at the dead of night, but he was disappointed. The sorcerer barely even looked at him, as he had eyes only for Merlin. Arthur tried not to feel too offended.

‘I don’t believe it,’ the boy breathed. He sounded almost _reverent_. Arthur shot Merlin a confused look that was steadfastly ignored.

‘You’re Dale, right? We’re here to get you out. Hurry now, there isn’t much time,’ Merlin told him, kindly but urgently.

Merlin’s words seemed to penetrate whatever cloud had fallen over the boy’s (Dale’s apparently, and when did Merlin learn that anyway?) mind and he hurriedly scrambled to his feet. Merlin ushered him out of the cell and back through the darkened corridors, where the guards remained motionless.

Arthur quickly caught up and took the lead, whispering into Merlin’s ear, ‘When did you have time to learn his name?’

‘I’ve been in Camelot all day Arthur,’ Merlin replied, as though it should be obvious. ‘I did tell you I wanted to see it, remember?’

‘Are you telling me that while I was out of my mind, hoping that you’d show up in time, you were out sightseeing?’ Arthur asked incredulously.

‘I wasn’t going to come into _Camelot_ with no information, Arthur. _And_ , I’ll have you know, I’m more than capable of multitasking,’ Merlin huffed, dropping back to walk with Dale.

Bloody sorcerers.

They continued up the stairs before Arthur abruptly turned them into an almost hidden passageway. ‘Shortcut,’ he explained briefly when he saw Merlin’s head turn his way.

‘I guess there were some advantages to bringing you along after all,’ Merlin remarked, voice completely even. Dale nearly choked, head turning comically between them, but only wounded little sounds escaped him.

‘Don’t worry, Dale, I’m unfortunately acquainted with Merlin’s lack of respect by now. If I was going to take his head off for it, I’d have done it months ago.’

In hindsight, Arthur wasn’t sure that was the best reassurance tactic to go with, as the boy probably didn’t need reminding of the fate he fully believed awaited him just a few minutes ago. Fortunately, Merlin let out a quiet but carefree laugh and continued on, relieving some of the young sorcerer’s tension.

When they finally reached the armoury, Morgana was in front of the shield that concealed the doorway, pacing back and forth with agitation. Arthur cleared his throat loudly to gain her attention, and she whipped around, dark cloak flaring.

‘There you are,’ she sighed, relieved. Hurriedly, she removed the shield from the wall and opened the already-unlocked, hidden door. ‘Quick, the patrol is due to come by here again in about six minutes, I’ve been timing their rotation. You have everything you need?’

‘All we needed was the boy, right?’ Arthur asked quizzically, turning to Merlin.

‘Oh no, we forgot to steal from the treasury and the kitchens to get supplies. Probably should’ve hit the stables too, just to make things easier for everyone,’ Merlin replied without missing a beat.

‘Of course, what a disaster,’ Arthur quickly caught on.

‘Such fools we are.’

‘Aright then, Morgana, hide the high-profile fugitive who will be noticed as missing very soon for a while, so we can go and commit more treason.’

‘Fine. You have the boy. Just get moving already,’ Morgana ushered, exasperated.

‘Wait,’ Dale suddenly pitched in. ‘Where could I possibly go? I have nothing. I can’t return to my family, I’m not even sure if they’re still in Camelot. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d left already.’

‘Don’t worry Dale,’ Merlin soothed. ‘That’s why I’m going with you. You’ll come stay with me for a few days until we get everything sorted.’

Dale’s eyes grew wide. ‘To a Sanctuary? _Emrys’s_ Sanctuary? Truly?’ Arthur didn’t miss the way Morgana’s head shot up during their conversation, and vowed to ask her about it the first chance he got.

‘Absolutely, it’s what they’re for after all,’ Merlin smiled.

Well. Filing that bit of information away to deal with some other time, Arthur pushed both Merlin and Dale towards the passageway.

‘Excellent. That’s all sorted then. Enjoy your trip, and please don’t take it too personally when I say that I really hope I don’t see you again any time soon,’ Arthur said brusquely, helping Dale through the small doorway first.

‘That was meant for Dale, by the way, Merlin,’ He paused as Merlin looked back, startled, one foot already on the ledge. ‘You should take it completely personally,’ he finished with a grin. Merlin’s face went through a myriad of emotions, before settling on a fond smile.

‘Take care, Arthur. Morgana,’ he nodded to her and with one final smile jumped into the passage, the door swinging closed behind him with a flash of golden eyes.

Arthur and Morgana were silent a moment, as the reality of what they had just accomplished sunk in. However, the moment was quickly ruined by the toll of the warning bells, spurring them into action. Hastily, Morgana replaced the shield on the wall, and with one final loaded glance between them, they vanished back into the night.

 

* * *

 

Predictably, the next morning Uther was furious.

Arthur and Morgana sat in uncomfortable silence at breakfast as his father quietly stewed in frustration. Occasionally he would mutter something foul under his breath, an occurrence that had Morgana looking unrepentantly amused. Arthur kept shooting her warning glances that, with great reluctance, she heeded.

Finally, the King broke the silence in typical Uther fashion.

Questioning Arthur’s competence.

‘Is there any word yet from the search parties?’ he asked, voice steely.

‘No father. No one can find a trace of them anywhere,’ Arthur replied in a steady voice, showing none of his inner indignance.

‘This is ridiculous. How could this have happened on your watch Arthur?!’

And thus, the shouting begins.

‘We believe that the sorcerer had outside help, father,’ Arthur tried to reason. ‘Probably another sorcerer, and a powerful one at that, judging by the state of the guards when we found them. I have to imagine that someone with that kind of power wouldn’t have any difficulties in making sure they remained unseen as they escaped.’

Arthur was mildly concerned with how well he was getting at bending the truth. He felt briefly guilty, but then Uther began another tirade on the evils of magic, and the guilt vanished as quickly as it came. Arthur was fairly certain that it was becoming painful for Morgana to resist rolling her eyes, so she clearly had no qualms whatsoever in the treasonous acts they’d performed the night before. That should probably have worried Arthur more than it did, but right now he couldn’t help but find it an endearing quality.

It took a moment for Arthur to realise that Uther had finished, and was waiting on a response of some kind. Thinking quickly, Arthur answered, ‘Yes father, we won’t stop looking until they’re found.’

Uther was appeased, and he mentally patted himself on the back.

As they left the great hall, Arthur tugged on Morgana’s sleeve and gestured tightly that she should follow him. After the warning bells rang the night before, Arthur had been completely caught up in organising search parties and finding ‘leads’ that would send them in the opposite direction of Merlin and Dale. Consequently, he didn’t have the chance to ask her any of the questions burning in his mind.

He led her to his chambers, briskly dismissed George with a list of chores that would keep him busy at least until sundown, and closed the door behind him.

‘My goodness Uther was unhappy this morning, wasn’t he?’ Morgana said gleefully. In the privacy of Arthur’s chambers, she could let a full, Cheshire grin cross her face.

‘Yes, yes Morgana. I know you like seeing him squirm, but please try to be a little more discreet in your happiness next time or I’ll start kicking you under the table. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again,’ Arthur warned.

Morgana rolled her eyes.

‘Childhood reminiscence aside, why am I here Arthur? I’m sure you have things to do today.’

‘I have questions,’ Arthur said. ‘Some things I heard last night. I know you know what they mean.’

‘I know a lot of things, Arthur. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.’

‘Two things; something called a “Sanctuary”, and someone called “Emrys”.’

Morgana drew a sharp intake of breath.

‘I’d… never have believed it. The boy said Merlin lived in a Sanctuary but to think, he would be involved with someone like that…’ Morgana seemed to be talking to herself at this point.

‘Sharing is caring, Morgana.’

‘Well, Sanctuaries have been a myth since the Great Purge, but they’re beginning to reappear with the reforming of the Circle,’ she stated, as though that didn’t raise a plethora of new questions.

‘The Circle? What’s the Circle?’

‘Merlin really didn’t tell you any of this? Well, I suppose if he’s working for Emrys, I wouldn’t want to risk it either.’

‘Morgana please.’

‘Alright, alright. The Circle of Magic is… a council of sorts. A representative from each area of magic – totalling seven people – gather to maintain the balance of the Old Religion. Supposedly, these are the most powerful magical beings of the era.’

‘I’m honestly not sure whether that sounds incredible or terrifying,’ Arthur said, taking a seat at his desk. He figured he would probably want to sit down for this conversation.

‘What’s incredible is that they were able to come together again after the Purge,’ Morgana said wondrously. ‘It takes truly remarkable people to pick back up like that.’

‘You sound quite taken by them, Morgana. Anyone you know?’ Arthur asked carefully because now, the more he thought of it, the more it made sense. _Of course_ Morgana would have someone dear to her practise magic, why else would she be so invested in this?

‘That, is a story for another time I think,’ Morgana replied slowly. It wasn’t an outright refusal though, so Arthur accepted her answer and carried on.

‘I’ll hold you to that. But you still haven’t explained about Emrys or the Sanctuaries,’ he prompted.

‘Right. The Sanctuaries were each established by a member of the Circle to, as the name suggests, provide a safe-haven to anyone who needs one. I believe they were originally to keep people away from warring clans or rival species, and acted as totally neutral ground for peace talks and such. But that was a long time ago. I’m sure you can guess their main purpose these days,’ Morgana added with a humourless smile.

‘As for Emrys, I heard he was one of the members of the Circle this time around, but I confess I couldn’t tell you much about him. My… friend only ever calls him Emrys when she talks about him. Though, she isn’t especially fond of him, so I’ll admit her accounts may be slightly… biased,’ Morgana shrugged.

‘Why doesn’t your friend like him?’ Arthur questioned.

‘Because he’s powerful. Supposedly, Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever live – even more powerful than her, though she’ll never admit it. They also have differing views on many things, which creates quite a bit of tension between them. Although, if Emrys really was the one to send Merlin to help the boy, perhaps they’ll finally have some common ground? She has different methods, but ultimately, she really does just want to be free to use magic again,’ Morgana finished earnestly.

‘Something tells me we should come back to talk about those “methods” another time as well, Morgana, but for now that’s enough. So, Merlin is working for the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, and has taken Dale to the Sanctuary established by said sorcerer. The moral to this story is that they’re completely safe, right?’ Arthur clarified.

‘Right,’ Morgana affirmed. ‘No one, magical or not would be stupid enough to attack a Sanctuary. Not even Uther could manage it during the height of the Purge.’

‘Good to know,’ Arthur sighed in relief.

‘He still managed to destroy them of course, but he did it by killing the ones who made them,’ Morgana continued.

‘Lovely.’

‘He’s your father, Arthur. You should really be familiar with his methods by now.’

 

* * *

 

It was a full two weeks before Uther finally gave up the search for Dale, no longer being able to justify the extensive use of castle resources.

A month after the search was called off, he was still griping about it.

Arthur was Suffering.

He’d received a rather cryptic message during that time though, reassuring him that Dale was safe. Clearly, Merlin fancied himself a jester, as in lieu of a written note he’d sent a bottle of Gwaine’s favourite, troll-worthy alcohol. And by sent, he meant magicked to appear.

Right. In front of him.

Arthur had promptly vowed to never touch the stuff, though he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away either. Once his heart restarted, he hid it inside his official chest, underneath piles of important scrolls, and jewels that he wore only for the most special occasions.

Life seemed to go on. Morgana still refused to tell him who her ‘friend’ within the Circle was, but Arthur realised that if he was serious about reforming the law around Uther then he would need her help, so he was reluctant to press her for information. He didn’t forget about it though, nor the presumably questionable methods of said person.

Everything was good though. Dale was safe, Merlin was safe, Uther was back to his regular level of intensity in ruling his Kingdom and he and Morgana were closer than they’d been since they were children.

Then, in true Camelot fashion, that was when it all went wrong.

Just when it seemed that the entire Dale-fiasco was about to blow over, a war council meeting was interrupted by a shady-looking bounty hunter. At least, he’d claimed to be a bounty hunter. Arthur didn’t think he looked like much – most hunters he knew tended to have arms like tree trunks and a countenance to match. This man was small and weedy, his aged face marred with scars, and his limbs looking barely strong enough to lift a tankard, let alone a sword.

So no, the man did not look like much, but it was what he brought that received Uther’s full attention. Evidently, he’d managed to capture not a sorcerer, but a rumour. One that made Arthur’s stomach drop out from under him in abject horror.

_The Circle has gathered again._

The council was immediately in uproar. Some called falsehood, others were already planning for next Purge. Gaius remained conspicuously silent, as did, to Arthurs great concern, the King.

After a few minutes of arguments back and forth around the table, Uther finally stood and raised a hand, ceasing the racquet instantly.

‘Guards, please escort this man outside and ensure he’s paid handsomely for this information,’ Uther commanded.

As the guards scrambled to follow his orders, Uther turned to the rest of the room.

‘Men, this is a joyous occasion.’

The awful feeling in Arthur’s gut worsened.

‘We finally have the opportunity to rid this world of the evils of magic, once and for all. For what people could stand to see their leaders fall a second time to the same great enemy?’

The entire room held its breath.

‘These… _people_ are clearly the ones behind the sorcerer boy’s escape all those weeks ago. We can use this to our advantage to draw them out, and to do this I have one, infallible solution,’ he paused, clearly enjoying the rapt attention of the tale. ‘We invite them here for a peace talk. We’ll say whatever we need to – even that we’re considering lifting the ban on magic, if that’s what it takes. And then? We destroy them.’

Silence.

Arthur wasn’t sure what he expected. Perhaps a cacophony, like before? But it probably wasn’t the crushing weight of stillness that fell onto the chamber. He wasn’t sure if the council’s hush was out of respect for their King, or if they could all see the image of his father as a man who stands for justice in his Kingdom shattering, as Arthur could.

‘But Sire,’ Gaius finally spoke up. ‘Surely, the Circle will see right through you. Even if they were to humour you and send a representative for a peace discussion, there’s no way all of them would be foolish enough to come.’

‘They wouldn’t have to,’ Uther explained. ‘I must applaud the tenacity of the Circle for managing to reform in so short a time, but it can’t have been without cost. These new members must have been old enough that they were wise enough to escape the Purge twenty years ago – surely past their prime by now – or so young that they were missed entirely. They cannot be the formidable group of sorcerers we all remember. Even if only a few of them fall, it will be a crippling blow. We must show our people, and theirs, that Camelot is as strong as it has ever been, and that it will not allow any resistance to its laws.’

‘Sire–’ Gaius tried again, but Uther cut him off. Arthur recognised the manic glint in his eye – there was no changing his mind on this.

_It’s his obsession._

‘Then it is decided. Send out word that Camelot is offering a chance for a talk of peace with the members of the Circle. It will be held in this very hall at noon, two weeks henceforth. Gather all materials used to imprison sorcerers from the vaults. If any come, we will be ready. If they don’t, the realm will see them for the cowards they truly are.’

Arthur began screaming every expletive he knew inside his head, praying it wasn’t showing on his face. He knew that if he made a fuss he’d be frozen out of this project altogether. He couldn’t help anyone if he wasn’t involved, after all.

‘Get to work men! There is much to do.’

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, everything was ready. Cold iron chains and bars were installed in the dungeons, and runes deeply engraved into their walls, supposedly stopping them from being susceptible to any magical damage or influence.

Arthur had done everything he could to get word out to Merlin of the true goal of these ‘peace talks’, but he’d heard nothing in return. Morgana too was frustrated, as she hadn’t heard anything from her friend in the Circle either. And the day had finally arrived.

Arthur sat in his chambers with Morgana, awaiting the call. Even through her flawless make-up he could see her face was white as a sheet. Arthur knew she was praying to whatever deity may be listening that her friend would not appear when the noon bells rang. Arthur had little comfort to give.

The only consolation was the knowledge that should anyone appear, he and Morgana had devised a plan to get them out of Camelot as soon as possible. Preferably, they could pull it off without being caught, though they’d both acknowledged the impossibility of helping the Circle member unseen. Uther had arranged it so that the talks would, in fact, happen, to keep up appearances and lull whoever came into a false sense of security. Personally, Arthur didn’t believe that any ‘kindness’ Uther granted would be enough to make a _sorcerer_ let down their guard in the heart of Camelot. But still, the representative would be paraded around and given all the same benefits a visiting delegation from any other allied kingdom would, ensuring that eyes would be on them at all times. Uther went to great lengths to make it difficult for anyone to help them escape. Arthur and Morgana just hoped that if they were the ones caught helping, he might show leniency.

Or at least, Arthur hoped. Morgana was not convinced.

When George knocked on his door and announced that it was time, they quickly stood and shared one last, loaded glance before marching arm-in-arm to the Great Hall. There, the full court was dressed in their finest, anticipating a party that might never show. But Uther was confident. He never faltered, sitting regally upon his throne – the epitome of arrogant grace. They took their seats by Uther’s side, and settled in to wait.

The bells tolled.

The doors opened.

A terrified, yet bewildered-looking squire entered and announced, ‘Your Majesty, the Circle of Magic has sent two members as representatives for the peace talks.’

A murmur rose up from the court, quieted by Uther with a stern glance. Arthur couldn’t believe it. The Circle had actually sent not one, but two of their seven members. It was utterly insane. Who in their right mind would be willing to step into the lion’s den when it was so obviously a trap?

The squire continued. ‘Presenting Lord Taliesin, Medium of the Circle, and Lord Emrys, Dragonlord of the Circle.’

And then Merlin walked through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! So yes, it’s been a few months and I don’t really have an excuse, but I’m super excited about this chapter and I’m so keen for the next one. The whole next scene is what originally gave me the idea for this fic and I have so many different versions of it it’s ridiculous. ONE MORE CHAPTER and we’ll be done, but honestly there’s a lot to get through so it’ll probably be a long one. There will most likely be a bit of Uther bashing, because this is the kind of fic that needs it, but I’ll try to make it subtle, political bashing so it’s not too crazy.
> 
> There was a bit of confusion from the last chapter that I’d just like to sort out. Yes, Merlin does know that Balinor is his father. Sorry if I didn’t convey that clearly enough.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone still reading this and all those who’ve picked it up along the way. The comments have been so supportive, you guys are absolutely fantastic.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~Seagrass12

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first published story so let me know what you think and I apologise in advance for any grammatical errors that I miss in proofreading.  
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~Seagrass12


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